


Advent Omens

by freyjawriter24



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, Advent Prompts, Chestnuts, Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Cookies, Eggnog, F/M, Fire, First Kiss, Gold & Silver, Hanukkah, Laughter, M/M, Mistletoe, Nutcracker, Other, References to The Nutcracker, Reindeer, Silent Night, Sleigh Bells, Snow, Wish, Wrapping Paper, choir, cranberry - Freeform, ice storm, ornament, pine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21672625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24
Summary: A series of ficlets written based on drawlight's advent project (31 Days of Ineffables), mostly focusing on our favourite ineffable couple. Most chapters have been first posted onmy tumblrand then collected here later, though several are exclusive to AO3. They are all independent and unrelated, but you can imagine them being in the same universe if you want.Thank you for the inspiration, drawlight!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 32





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to imagine these all being in the same universe, here they are arranged in chronological order for your reading pleasure:
> 
> 15: Laughter  
> 20: Reindeer  
> 16: Ice Storm  
> 7: Silent Night  
> 11: Pine  
> 19: Wish  
> 13: Wrapping Paper  
> 12: Caroling  
> 6: Sleigh Bells  
> 1: Mistletoe  
> 3: Nutcracker  
> 2: Snow  
> 10: Gold & Silver  
> 8: Choir  
> 5: Fire  
> 9: Chestnuts  
> 17: Ornament  
> 4: Cranberry  
> 14: Eggnog  
> 18: Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley starts hiding mistletoe around the bookshop for a bit of fun. Aziraphale notices and avoids them to mess with the demon. But Christmas is a time for love, so the inevitable happens.

Crowley thought he was being subtle.

The bookshop was cluttered, yes, but it’s a clutter Aziraphale has been living in for over two hundred years. He knows the exact right place for every single book, the precise positioning of each angel-themed ornament on every surface. His notes might be scattered haphazardly, but he always knows roughly where to find what he’s looking for, because the chaos is organised, and he is the organiser.

And yes, it may well have been the first time they went properly all-out on the decorations – tinsel and fairy-lights festooning the shelves, little Scandinavian elves and round, red-clothed, jolly old men sat alongside the religious imagery, a giant tree sat in the middle of the shop, under the domed ceiling, reaching upwards to the upper floor. But Aziraphale still knew what’s meant to be where in his bookshop. He was _involved_ in decorating the place, he knew what was put in. And he knew that there was no mistletoe _anywhere_ a few days ago.

Not that he minded. It was really very entertaining to watch. And Aziraphale was a little bit of a bastard at heart.

The first one was smartly calculated. A small sprig, high enough up that it’s not quite in the typical field of view, but placed directly over Aziraphale’s chair at his desk. The number of times Crowley has sauntered in to find Aziraphale sat there, well – it’s a place carefully chosen. And so Aziraphale makes sure he doesn’t go over to his desk while Crowley’s there, decides to choose another place to sit when he’s alone for the duration of this month, just in case the demon comes barging in. He’s got to make him work for it a _bit_.

The second one was similarly well-thought through. A little spray pinned to the top of the shelf that contained the signed first edition of _A Christmas Carol_. Luckily he noticed before Crowley next came over, because then when the demon innocently asked a question about the story, Aziraphale already had the book to hand. He had to supress his smile at the demon’s poorly-concealed frustration.

The third one was approaching the slightly-desperate. A tiny cluster of berries and leaves stuck carefully to the doorway to Aziraphale’s back room. That required some preparation and casual acting on Aziraphale’s part. _Make sure there’s some wine stored somewhere else. ‘Oh, my dear, would you mind just grabbing that for me?’ Make sure there’s always a pot of tea already on for when he comes over. ‘I think it might be out the back – would you be a dear?’ Make sure you remember to miracle what you need if it’s back there. ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter, it’s probably in the back room, I’ll get it later... oh, thank you!’ Make sure you don’t let him catch you in that room, or there’s no other way out._

The fourth time was sneaky. A bunch attached just under each of the points of the compass around the tree, so that every time that circle was passed through, there were four different options – four different danger zones. That one was difficult to get around. But Aziraphale had been sparring with and outmatching this snake for millennia. Easy.

The fifth time was puzzling. It appeared directly over the sofa – the one Crowley usually sat on, the one that Aziraphale rarely used. He wondered for a while if it was some sort of acceptance of defeat – _okay, I give up, you can come to me, if you want_. Then Crowley turned up with a whole case of mulled wine.

They settled into their usual seats, and Aziraphale watched as the demon glanced up as he sat down, checking the mistletoe was still there. The angel had to cover his mouth to hide the smile when Crowley’s obvious excitement flashed onto his face. _This is going to be fun._

Several hours later, Crowley enacted his ridiculous infernal scheme.

“Hey, angel, come and sit here a second. I want to show you something.”

He was flicking through his phone, casual as anything, pretending to search for some video or other. Aziraphale smiled. Stood. Brushed down his trousers and caught the final, quick look upwards of those golden eyes, checking on the status of the mistletoe. He refused to look himself. Crossed the small space between them. Sat down.

“Yes, my dear?”

Crowley lowered his phone and turned to look carefully at Aziraphale, bright snake-eyes meeting his own soft blues. Aziraphale had to school his face into calm interest – _was that a blush in the demon’s cheeks?_

“Um, err, uh,” Crowley began, then looked a way for a moment and composed himself. “Well, ah, you know there are some... traditions the humans have at this time of year?”

“Yes, of course. I haven’t had much experience of them myself, but I’m glad we’re trying these things out this year.”

Crowley’s ears went red and his cheeks burned decidedly pink. “Ngh, uh, yeah. Well, um, I’ve been doing some research...” He gestured to his phone, its screen blank.  
“And I, uh, found another one that I, um, might want to try. With you. If you like.” His anxious eyes found Aziraphale’s, and they looked... hopeful. _Good._

“Oh yes? That sounds lovely, what is it?”

Crowley looked away again. “Now, um, I don’t want to push you, I just... I mean, I thought it would be a laugh, a bit of fun, so I tried it out, but then it didn’t work so I tried again and I thought it would be, you know, funny, fun, nice. Good. But then it kept not working and now I think I’m taking it too seriously and, uh –” The words were all rapid-fire, jumbled and rambling, stalling for time and yet rushing the explanation. Aziraphale tried to look concerned.

“My dear, do calm down. What is it? There’s no need to get yourself in a state over this.”

The demon sighed heavily and dragged a hand over his face. “Yeah, yeah, sure, of course. Um...”

The angel waited. Patience is a virtue.

“So it’s this thing. Where humans sometimes... Well, you must know about it. It’s... that thing.”

Crowley pointed up to punctuate the last two words. Aziraphale frowned.

“What, Heaven?”

“ _No_ , angel, _that_ , the –”

That was when he looked up. And realised the mistletoe wasn’t there anymore.

Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale. And belatedly realised what had happened.

“Oh, do you mean this, my dear?” the angel asked innocently, holding the mistletoe up casually between them, dangling over the space between their faces.

Crowley went properly red now, and then all at once his face drained of colour entirely.

“Oh, you _bastard_.”

Only now did Aziraphale allow himself to smile, a smug grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know what you mean, my dear.” He leaned forwards slightly, aligning himself with the sprig he was holding aloft. “What do you think, then? Should we give this human tradition a go?”

“ _Fuck_ yes,” the demon rasped, and leaned forward to finally, _finally_ complete the ritual.

The kiss was soft and delicate, a little bit of uncertainty still buried there. But the second one was stronger, full of meaning and need and six thousand years of unsaid words.

They both pulled back together, Aziraphale somehow still holding the mistletoe above them.

“Merry Christmas,” the angel said breathlessly.

“And a Happy New Year,” the demon replied in kind.

Then they laughed, and the little bunch of festive greenery was re-stuck to the ceiling above them, and they curled up on the sofa together, ready to enter the new decade hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189430884719/advent-omens-mistletoe-this-is-the-first-of-my). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	2. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't snow at Christmas in Tadfield anymore, after the antichrist saved the world. But that doesn't mean it isn't Christmassy. And when the snow does eventually come, everyone has a wonderful time.

It was a cold a frosty December that year in Tadfield. It was the first time in eleven years that it hadn’t snowed heavily in and around the village in time for Christmas day, but it was still beautifully picturesque, and hardly any of the residents seemed to mind (or even notice).

Pepper noticed though. And Brian. And Wensleydale. And Anathema, who had decided to make her residence in Jasmine Cottage a little more permanent and who had heard the local children’s stories about the amazing things they got up to at Christmastime.

Adam didn’t so much notice as consciously decide that’s how it was going to be. It was a decision made a few months earlier, around the time of a certain altercation at an airfield. And now it was coming to life – winter in Oxfordshire, minus any antichrist influence. Cold, damp, pretty, frosty, and decidedly un-snowy. Just as it was meant to be.

Aziraphale and Crowley had decided that Christmas Day itself was probably more of a time for families to be together without outside interference – particularly interference of a celestial nature – but they’d accepted Adam’s invitation to a Christmas Eve lunch. The other kids were there too, and somehow Anathema and Newt had also blagged places at the table, which made for a very crowded dining room.

“Now, obviously we’ll all be having a big roast tomorrow, and lots of leftovers for the next few weeks, so I thought we’d have something a little different today,” Deirdre was saying.

“I did the holly leaves”, Mr Young said proudly.

“Yes, dear,” his wife continued. “And I did all the rest of it. If you want a medal, I’m getting myself a trophy.”

Adam’s dad smiled in a way that suggested that this was an old joke. “Seems fair to me.”

He cut into the vegetable pie with its vaguely holly-shaped crust decoration and served everyone a slice as the children started dishing out chips and passing the ketchup back and forth. The food was good, Aziraphale thought – not his usual fare, considering where he usually dined – but he hadn’t eaten anything homemade in a while, and the healthy dose of love contained within it always made for a pleasurable dining experience. Crowley picked at a few chips and pried the pastry holly leaves off the top of his slice of pie to make them swim in ketchup, before swapping his plate for Aziraphale’s empty one while the humans weren’t looking.

“What’s for pudding?” Adam asked as soon as he’d finished eating.

“Come on, we’ve got to let our stomachs settle for a bit first, son.”

“Yes, no pudding for at least half an hour,” Mrs Young said, standing to clear the plates and motioning for her son to help her. “But it’s apple crumble.”

The kids all grinned and jumped up to help empty the table, leaving Anathema, Newt, the two celestial beings, and Mr Young there together. The latter was loosening his tie slightly when a frown came over his face.

“How did you two say you know us?”

If this question had been directed at Newt and Anathema, it would have been easier to deal with. It wouldn’t even need to be asked, really. Tadfield was a small place, and the mere fact that Anathema might be alone at Christmas would have warranted her being invited over to _someone_ ’s house, and why not theirs? And Newt would of course be invited too – he needed feeding up before driving them both all the way back to his mum’s house, after all.

It was, however, directed at Aziraphale and Crowley. Two people who did not live in Oxfordshire, did not have any sensible link to the family, and did not really have a proper reason for being there, other than having sort of helped save the world with Adam a few months ago.

But they’d rehearsed for this. Pepper had come up with the idea – her mum was known as the local, er, ‘interesting’ person, and so the adults were more likely to go along with it.

“We’re Pepper’s godfathers,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Her mum wanted us out of the house so she could get some last-minute things ready for tomorrow,” Crowley lied easily. “Deirdre said she’d be happy to host us since Pepper was coming here too.”

“Yes, and thank you for the hospitality,” the angel added quickly.

The man’s frown lingered for a moment, then cleared as he accepted the explanation offered. “No, not at all. Always nice to have a full house around Christmas. Makes it seem extra festive.”

The children were chattering excitedly in the kitchen, and the next moment they came running over, Brian cheerfully crowing something about ‘making snowflakes’.

“We’ve got some paper over here,” Adam said, and the boys dived on the stack under an ancient printer that was sat in the corner while Pepper ran to get some scissors from Mrs Young.

A few minutes later, the entire sitting room was filled with paper shards as the children folded and cut and unfolded large almost-uniform snowflakes to decorate the windows with. Aziraphale and Crowley were for some reason put in charge of the four of them while the other adults hid in the kitchen, attempting to find some common ground to talk about.

“I’m going to go over to see Warlock on Boxing Day,” Crowley said quietly, while the others were preoccupied by seeing how much paper they could find already buried in Brian’s hair. “Might see if I can get him away from that family for a bit.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Aziraphale asked immediately.

“Only if you want to, angel. I know you think he’s better off not having –”

“I want to.”

The words were said gently but earnestly. Crowley looked up at him, and saw the fierceness in those soft blue eyes.

“You’re right,” Aziraphale continued. “I said we shouldn’t interfere too much, now that we know the truth. But he’s already not had a normal childhood and he looked so... unhappy in the park, and I think...” He took a deep breath. “I think it would be nice if we see him regularly, at least. Maybe give him the choice to come and visit us now and again.”

The demon looked back down at the snowflake he was cutting out, checking his sunglasses were on firmly as he did so. “Thank you, angel.”

“Not at all, my dear.”

The children had now gotten distracted by Dog, who was trying to steal the finished snowflakes and shake them apart in his mouth. Mr Young called out that they should take him outside if he was going to be a bother, and so suddenly it was just the two of them alone in the sitting room, surrounded by shards of paper, cutting out snowflakes together.

“Are you going to go as Nanny?”

Crowley made a pained, garbled noise. “I... haven’t decided. I kind of want to tell him the truth. Do you... do you think he’d understand?”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together in thought. “Perhaps. It might take him a while, but I think he’d get there. Humans are resilient, children especially.”

“I just... don’t want it to go wrong.”

His voice was so small and scared that Aziraphale couldn’t help himself. He put down the paper and scissors in his own hands, gently took Crowley’s off him too, then folded the demon carefully into his arms.

“It’ll be okay, my dear. I know it will.”

They stayed that way until the call for dessert came through, and then Aziraphale ate one-handed, his other one squeezing Crowley’s under the table.

\-----

It didn’t go wrong. It went unexpectedly smoothly. Mr and Mrs Dowling were surprisingly receptive to the idea of their son’s old nanny taking him away for short holidays now and again, and Warlock was impressively accepting of the fact that Nanny Ashtoreth was actually a six-thousand-year-old demon called Crowley.

“Can I still call you Nanny, though?”

“Of course you can, my darling,” Crowley said, affecting Nanny’s accent for the last two words. Warlock grinned, and hugged her.

“I’d prefer you call me Aziraphale, though,” the angel said.

“That’s fine,” the boy said. “You look nicer as yourself than as Brother Francis, by the way. I understand why Nanny liked you so much now.”

Both the celestial beings went slightly pink at that, but Warlock either didn’t notice or ignored them both. “So, can I get some chocolate log now?”

\-----

When the snow actually finally fell in March the following year, Crowley went and picked up Warlock from his parents (well, parent singular – Thaddeus was in America _again_ for work) and drove the three of them up to Oxfordshire to play with the Them.

The Tadfield kids were impressive with their snowman-making skills, having had years of perfect snow to practice with, but it was Warlock who had figured out how best to make a snow demon rather than a snow angel, and he made sure Crowley and Aziraphale had a go at making both.

As Adam and Warlock discussed their various experiences growing up as the antichrist and the rest of the Them threw snowballs for Dog to chase after, Aziraphale moved close to Crowley’s side and slid their gloved hands together.

“I think that all went rather well, in the end.”

Crowley snuck a finger up under his sunglasses to wipe away a small tear.

“Yeah, angel. It did, didn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189450600924/advent-omens-snow-heres-my-response-to). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	3. Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley gives Aziraphale an early Christmas present - a wonderful, wintry date. Cuteness is all around.

Crowley tried to be casual about it.

He sauntered into the bookshop, threw himself onto the sofa, spreading out his lanky limbs and attempting to look the picture of complete calm, and rested his head in one hand to watch the angel until he paid attention.

“One moment, my dear,” Aziraphale said, the words quiet and automatic and he continued reading the ancient book propped open on his desk.

Crowley would be content to spend most of the evening like this. He enjoyed just being beside Aziraphale, watching the angel read or eat or listen to music. He enjoyed being able to bask in his presence, to just look at his soft hair and bright eyes and the way he interacted with his books and his food, the way everything he did was full of such love. He enjoyed knowing the angel was alive, that they’d made it, and that this – this was _it_ , this was his _life_ now, he could just _do this_ , and it was fine. It was allowed. They could be together.

But then there was also the matter of the envelope. It was hot between his fingers, like it was in danger of setting him on fire (though, realistically it was far more likely to happen the other way round). Not that he was _nervous_ or anything. Demons didn’t get _nervous_. Well, he was pretty sure they didn’t, anyway. But he was thankful for his sunglasses, either way.

When Aziraphale was done, he marked the page with a slip of card, carefully closed the tome and put it to one side, then thoughtfully took off his reading gloves before depositing them on top. Then he finally turned to look at Crowley, his face breaking into a smile brighter than the sun.

“Hi, angel,” the demon said gently – less smooth coolness and more utter adoration. Aziraphale beamed brighter still in response.

“Hello! Oh, what do you have there?”

“Nothing much,” Crowley said, looking for a moment at the envelope in his other hand, then faux-casually offering it to Aziraphale. “Thought you might like these. No bother. And if you don’t want them, you know, we don’t have to –” He forced himself to stop talking. It was making him sound nervous. Which he wasn’t. Not really.

Ok, maybe a little bit.

Aziraphale took the envelope with a questioning glance, looked over its blank white exterior, then carefully tore it open. Inside were two near-identical slips of paper, shiny and printed, with a familiar logo on them.

“Tickets? To... Oh, _The Nutcracker_!”

The angel looked up with an expression of pure delight. Crowley melted in the intensity of that gaze, but he still needed to check.

“Only if you want to. I know you’ve seen it before, and it’s not really your _favourite_ , but I thought...”

“My dear, it’s absolutely _perfect_. Thank you _ever so_ much.”

The thanks and approval he had been hoping for. The hug was unexpected. The demon relaxed into it though, indulging in the soft comfort and familiar smell of his angel.

“When are they for?” Aziraphale asked after a moment, releasing Crowley to check the tickets in his hand.

“Tomorrow night. Figured we could... I don’t know... make a date of it? Dine out somewhere nice before? The Ritz, maybe? Or somewhere else, we could see what’s opened recently near the theatre...”

“My _darling_ ,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “What a _wonderful_ idea.”

Crowley collapsed back against the cushions of the sofa with barely a pretence of casualness. “Mhm, uh, glad you like it, angel.”

\-----

The evening went wonderfully. Aziraphale closed the shop early and they went for a wander in St James’ Park as the sun set, sitting on a bench to watch the first stars appear in the sky. They talked and laughed, reminisced about the past and speculated about the future, and smiled and watched each other without needing to hide.

Dinner was perfect, as always. Aziraphale ordered, and Crowley gave up his dessert so the angel could have both. There was champagne instead of wine – though what in particular they were celebrating, they never defined – and then they walked together, arm-in-arm, into the theatre.

Crowley had seen this ballet twice before, both with Aziraphale. He knew the music off by heart, knew the story beats and the melody riffs, could predict exactly when the angel would tear up, when he might need a squeeze on the arm, when he would smile radiantly and almost discorporate Crowley on the spot. In the end, the demon spent half the time just watching Aziraphale watching the dancers.

And then afterwards – afterwards, the theatre cleared out, and the audience dispersed into the clear, frosty night, and two celestial beings hovered together by the entrance, unnoticed. They were still, just looking at each other, watched only by themselves and the moon and stars above. No one cared about them anymore – what they did, where they went, who they spent their time with. They were safe, and happy, and _loved_.

That was where they kissed. In the middle of London, the sights and sounds and bright lights of the city all around, festive decorations spilling out from every shop front and an appropriately wintry chill in the air. There were humans and life and laughter and love everywhere, all around them, almost overwhelming in their constant presence and activity. And yet, in their little bubble of unnoticed adoration, Crowley and Aziraphale kissed and held one another and were together.

Finally, _finally_ , together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189470766279/advent-omens-nutcracker-thank-you-again-to). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	4. Cranberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale came here before, alone. He's here now again, with Crowley. Cranberries are involved.
> 
> This one's a bit non-linear and abstract, but I hope you like it all the same.

The air was clear and still up here, a gaping sky of baby blue dotted with distant wisps of cloud, everything so huge and far apart and separate. It was a strange feeling, like being just out of touch with the world, like being isolated from real life somehow. It was like flying, but without the wind in your feathers, without the feeling of strength at your back, without knowing you were completely secure in your own power and ability to get back down to the ground.

It felt like the empty spaciousness of Heaven, and it was making Aziraphale a little nauseous.

It was the lack of trees, he decided. He needed to go a little further downhill, maybe back the way he came, maybe over that way there, where the edge of a copse seemed to be half-hidden behind the rise of the land.

Then he paused. At the end of his current path, just over a lip of the hill that had covered until now his current view, was a change in the land. A collection of green-filled pools reflected the soaring sky overhead like mirrors, still and perfect and untouched.

This planet could still surprise him, even after all these years. The angel carried on towards the water, focusing downwards now, trying not to think about the emptiness and the silence of the world around him. _The water, the water, the water._

He didn’t realise quite _how_ watery the place was until it was almost too late.

“Oh! It’s a bog,” he said, to no one in particular, because there was no one else around.

He stood there for a while, just looking at the plant life, the occasional hint of movement from hidden animals, the rare hum of insects. Then he decided to ignore any dampness of his feet, and move forwards anyway. He wanted to see everything.

\-----

“I haven’t been here in years,” the angel said thoughtfully as he followed the demon up the hill path. Their hike had been a long one so far, already taking up most of the morning, but as neither of them got physically tired, neither of them really minded.

“Hmm?” Crowley asked, glancing back for a moment at Aziraphale, the light of the sun bouncing off his dark glasses into the cool air.

“Lot fewer signs last time,” the angel continued absently. “It looked untouched. Wasn’t, of course, but looked it.”

“When were you here, then?”

“What?” Aziraphale suddenly seemed to realise he’d been talking out loud. He looked up at Crowley, stood just above him on the path and now stopped, looking at the angel with some concern on his face. “Oh, um, nothing. I was just –”

The air around them wasn’t still this time. There was a strong breeze that blew through them every few moments, a rush of air that got stronger the closer you were to the edge of the rock, that roared in your ears if you dared look over the edge. But here it was mostly quiet. The angel took in a deep breath, inhaling the sights and sounds and smells of the landscape. He looked upwards, took in the endless expanse of sky, then turned to look downwards over the hill they’d just walked.

“A very, very long time ago, my dear,” he said softly. “Thousands of years, perhaps. Before I’d seen anywhere near all of the planet. Before I’d understood... oh, so many things. It was still new to me, then.”

“What was?” The question was quiet, gentle, a query without any force, a suggestion for a path Aziraphale could continue down rather than a demand to turn anywhere particular.

“So much. The humans, I suppose – some of the things they did still puzzled me, back then. The Earth, certainly – I hadn’t seen anywhere quite like this before. So... wide and empty and... free. And –” There was a pause, then, and Aziraphale looked down at the ground beneath his feet, too aware of what he was about to say.

“And you, my dear. It was still new to me, the idea that you could be from the other side and yet still be... you. Worth spending time with. Someone I was... happy to see. I don’t know when it was, exactly, that I was here – was it before Arthur? Before Rome? I’m not sure. But I remember wondering what it all meant, and here seemed so _exposed_ , so close to _them_ and _Her_ and –” Aziraphale surprised himself by cutting off the words with a sob.

Crowley was there in an instant, an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

The angel didn’t really know why exactly he was crying. But he was, and so he turned and buried himself in Crowley’s neck, felt the demon’s arms curl around him protectively. He let himself cry, let all the strange coil of emotions inside him bubble over, and Crowley stayed there, keeping him safe through it all.

\-----

The plants here were strange, ones he hadn’t seen before. Not that he’d seen everything on this planet – not yet, anyway – but somehow they were stranger still. If a certain demon had been with him, that demon might have been able to tell him why – _it’s the acidity of the soil, angel, it’s the exposure up here, the way the wind can come in and sweep everything away_ – but he wasn’t, so he didn’t. Aziraphale just wondered, and didn’t ask questions.

He found all sorts of things hidden in the bog. Insects, primarily, and a huge variety of green plants, and the occasional surprised creature that ran away and hid before he got a proper look. Sometimes a bird would come and perch nearby, watching the strange being soak the lower half of his clothes getting a closer look at a new leaf.

When he found it, a new gleam appeared in his eyes. _Thank you, God._

\-----

They carried on up the path, the area miraculously clear of the usual swarm of curious humans. A sign let them know they were almost there, and then they were, cresting over the hill to see the shining waters of the bog beyond.

“Here,” Aziraphale breathed. “This was where it was.”

Crowley didn’t ask what. He simply followed his angel towards the wooden boards that made neat bridges across the bog and watched as Aziraphale searched the various information signs for what he was looking for.

“Ooh, I didn’t know _those_ birds came here, but no, that’s not... Oh, I am glad they’re coming back from the brink, the humans are getting so _good_ with conservation these days... Ah, here! Crowley, look!”

The demon sauntered over to see Aziraphale pointing excitedly at an illustration of a green mass of leaves studded with pink-red berries.

\-----

The angel plucked a single berry from the plant and held it up to the sky. He examined the soft curve of it in the sunlight, rolled it around in his fingers to feel its smoothness. Then he popped it in his mouth, and bit down.

Any first taste of something is difficult to explain, especially when you still don’t have that much to compare it to. But the feeling of the fruit bursting between his teeth, the flavour of the red flesh mingling with the cool, clean air, the sight of everything before him as he tried a new food again, up here, away from everybody and everything –

This was everything he wanted out of life. He knew that with surety right now. It was possible to achieve a kind of Heaven here on Earth, and that was what he wanted to do. He wanted to indulge in the feel of the world all around him, the humans and their creations, but also the creations of God, the living, breathing things around him wherever he went. He wanted to taste every food, to search out new delicacies and delights, and to never abandon this place that he could very fairly call home.

Who knew that a cranberry could be as much of a revelation as an apple?

\-----

“Weird taste, cranberries. I always thought they were odd – bitter and sweet at the same time, you know?”

“I suppose so,” Aziraphale said, taking the jar from the demon and plopping a healthy spoonful of the sauce onto his plate. “But I like them all the same.”

“Yes, you always were a contrary one.” Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale shot him a prim look in response, which only made the snake’s smile wider.

“Fiend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189473670844/advent-omens-cranberry-todays-prompt-response). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	5. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year and a bit after the world didn't end, Aziraphale and Crowley celebrate Hanukkah for the first time at their cottage in the South Downs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to oath-of-lovingkindness on tumblr for beta-ing this one and answering my many, many questions - I really appreciate it!

Aziraphale crunched down the already-frosted path to the cottage, his breath forming thin clouds on the chilled winter air. He was back late from wandering the countryside for the day, but it wasn’t yet nightfall – not _too_ late, yet.

He paused as he rounded the leafless apple tree to take in the full view of the house – _their_ house – as perfect as it could be. The sun was setting behind it at this angle, the light spilling across the sky in a fiery halo, turning the few nearby clouds orange and pink as it sank towards the horizon.

The cottage wasn’t particularly big – _small but spacious_ , the estate agent had said – but that suited the both of them just fine. Right now, it looked like the picture of cosiness; the warm light of the fire was bright enough right now to fill the window of the front room, sending a soft glow onto the grass in front of it. _Welcome home._

The angel sighed happily. _Home._ It hadn’t been theirs for long – less than a year, a matter of months, really – and yet already this felt so _right_ , so comfortable and intimate and _perfect_. He started up the path again, ready now to get inside and feel the warmth of that fire.

“You’re late,” a teasing voice said as Aziraphale pushed the door shut behind him. He looked up to see Crowley’s face peeking through the door to the kitchen, free of sunglasses and with his newly-long hair pulled back in a loose bun.

“Not quite!” the angel protested. Then he turned curious – “What have you been up to in there?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” the demon said, disappearing back out of sight. Aziraphale heard a click of fingers, and then Crowley was walking back towards him, hair falling suspiciously free around his shoulders. _He just got changed. What was he wearing before, then?_

“Come on, then, angel,” Crowley said, leading the way into the living room. “Time to light the candles.”

\-----

It was Newt who had asked.

“Wait, you don’t go to church on Sundays?”

Aziraphale’s brow creased. “Not usually. I have been known to... Well, a handful of times over the centuries, perhaps...”

“My feet pretty much burn off if I walk into a church, so not me,” Crowley cut in.

Newt looked taken aback. “But...” He shook his head, confused. “I mean, you were _there_. Aren’t you like... the ultimate Christians?”

Aziraphale let out a peal of laughter. “Oh good gracious, _no_!”

Crowley was grinning widely. “We’d already been around for over four _thousand_ years before Christianity was even _thought_ of, mate,” he said. “If anything, we’re Jewish.”

“Oh.” The man paused for a moment, took off his glasses and fiddled with them, then shoved them back on again. “So... I mean, were you uncomfortable at Christmas last year, then? I didn’t think to ask. Do you celebrate Hanukkah?”

The celestial beings looked at each other.

“Uh, no,” Aziraphale said delicately. “We don’t really tend to celebrate... well, any of it. Last year was a first for us. Religion is more of a... human thing. We have direct proof, you see. No need for faith when you have belief based on certain knowledge.”

“Right, yeah,” Crowley agreed. “So Christmas is fine, Hanukkah is fine, it’s all just... participating in human stuff, you know? It doesn’t have the same meaning for us, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said slowly.

Newt nodded, looking even more confused than before. “Okay...”

Hours later, though, back at their new cottage, the angel and the demon were still thinking about that conversation.

“We could, you know,” Crowley said, as casually as possible. “If you wanted to?”

“Could what?” Aziraphale said hesitantly.

“You know... Celebrate Hanukkah this year. I mean, we did Christmas last time with the others, it would only be _fair_...”

“What’s this? Anthony J. Crowley, talking about what’s fair?”

The demon glowered at him. “Oh, shut up.”

Aziraphale smiled softly and moved to take Crowley’s hand. “I think that sounds like a lovely idea, dearest. Thank you.”

“Ngh,” said Crowley. “Uh, well, yeah. Anything for you, angel.”

\-----

They’d never done it properly before. Crowley looked up most of it online, to see what had changed and what hadn’t. It wasn’t like they were entirely new to this – after all, when you live for that long among humans, you pick up a thing or two – but it was still uncertain, there were still things they needed to rediscover.

Now, they’d done it. They were here, tucked away in their own little cottage, surrounded by candles and warm firelight, listening to the beautiful sounds of ‘Light One Candle’ playing from Crowley’s Hanukkah Spotify playlist filter through the air.

As the song came to an end and the now-familiar opening notes of ‘Hanukkah Oh Hanukkah’ struck up, Crowley swung himself up from the sofa. He moved to stand in front of Aziraphale, offering a hand to him.

“Got a surprise for you, angel.”

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale took the offered hand and allowed himself to be led out of the room.

He’d forgotten his earlier suspicion of Crowley’s quick change until they entered the kitchen. There, it suddenly all made sense.

The kitchen was a small but high-ceilinged room that felt bigger than it was. There was barely space for more than an oven, a sink, a fridge, and a little bit of work surface, but when the estate agent had left them with the keys, a miracle or two had managed to somehow cram in a little dining table there too, with just enough room for a couple of celestial beings to sit at. There, now, on the tiny table, was a veritable feast of Hanukkah delights.

“Oh, _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale breathed, endless awe and adoration in his voice. He looked over the spread – latkes, sufganiyot, a little cheeseboard to one side, yet more fried food, though no meat to be found – and then turned to stare at the demon, whose unconcealed eyes were flicking nervously between the angel and the table.

“It’s _wonderful_ , my dear. _Thank_ you.”

“Don’t say anything yet, angel. You haven’t tried my cooking.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be delightful!” He plucked a sufgani from the display and took a bite.

“Mmm! You made these from _scratch_?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, running a hand through his hair in the epitome of casualness. “Took a few goes to get it right, but...”

“They’re amazing! Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing,” the demon said, finally smiling now. He watched as the angel devoured the sweet, jam-filled doughnut and then immediately reached for another. “Hey, save one for me too! I made them – want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Aziraphale beamed and grabbed for a potato pancake instead. “Why don’t we bring it all through to the living room?”

“Good idea. Where’s the rest of the chocolate gelt gone? I’m going to beat you at dreidels this time...”

\-----

They got a week of this. A whole week, of just each other in the evenings, of playing games and eating food and singing and reading ancient prayers and sitting in the warm glow of the fire and each other’s love. This was definitely something they should do again.

“Happy Hanukkah, angel.”

“Mazel tov, my darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recs! oath-of-lovingkindness introduced me to [_Light One Candle_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTRfVnygo1U&f=) and [_Oh Hanukkah_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zb8nTnS__14), both of which are referenced in the story.
> 
> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189511347754/advent-omens-fire-my-fic-for-yesterdays-advent). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	6. Sleigh Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley loves Christmas, not that he particularly wants anyone to know that. After the world doesn't end, he gets a little over-enthusiastic decorating his flat for the first time - and then Aziraphale walks in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partly inspired by [_Sleigh Ride_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6rDA2Czz0E) by The Ronettes - all the lyrics in italics (and the lyrics Crowley sings) are from that song. If you get the song stuck in your head as a result of reading this fic, sorry!

_Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring tingle tingling too (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

Perhaps you’d expect a demon, a being of evil and darkness and temptation, to despise the festivities of Christmas. After all, it’s both a celebration of the Other Side (those Nativity plays, those carol services, those _good deeds_ and goodwill to all floating around) and a time for everyone to cosy up together and be happy. Not much space for evil there.

_Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

Or maybe you’d see the darker side to Christmas, and decide that it must be right up any good demon’s street. Family arguments, selfishness in the tradition of present-giving, the evils of capitalism, the general stress of the time of year, all that. Plenty of room for evil, if you know where to look.

_Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling ‘yoo hoo!’ (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

What you might not expect is a demon who wholeheartedly loves Christmas for no other reason than it’s _fun_.

“COME ON, IT'S LOVELY WEATHER FOR A SLEIGH RIDE TOGETHER WITH YOOOOUUUU!”

_(ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

Crowley was dancing around his Mayfair flat in his usual all-black clothes topped with a sparkly Santa hat and a long piece of silver tinsel wound round his neck like a scarf. There was a large tree beside him, haphazardly decorated with multicoloured lights, baubles in a rainbow of colours, and strips of wildly-clashing tinsel. It was all very undemonic, really, which is why it was done in the safety of a sound-proof flat, away from prying humans, the now-ignoring-him forces of Heaven and Hell, and one particular angel.

Well, that was what _he_ thought.

_Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cosy are we (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

It wasn’t actually snowing outside, on account of the fact that this was Britain and it was barely even December. And, being in the middle of London, even if it had been snowing there wasn’t exactly masses of space for a sleigh ride of any decent sort. There were the parks, yes, but Crowley was pretty sure there were rules there about dragging huge sleighs pulled by horses or reindeer and laden with bells across the grass. Or if there weren’t, there quickly would be if he ever tried it.

_We’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

At a click of his fingers, the top decoration for the Christmas tree burst into life, in perfect mirror of the song. Not one angel perched on the top branch, no – two, one dressed in all white with golden trimming and a cloud of pale hair, the other in all black with red details and a fire-coloured mane, both with wings to match their clothes, both _snuggled up together_ on the top of the tree.

“Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two!” _(ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

“Oh, _Crowley_!”

The demon froze.

_Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

With a click of his fingers, the song stopped. Then he took a deep breath, and slowly turned to face Aziraphale.

The angel was beaming with delight at the scene before him. _Santa hat. Christmas tree. Tinsel scarf. Christmas music. Glitter and fairy lights everywhere. Was that a stocking hanging there –?_

“Oh, my _dear_!”

Crowley snarled. “Shut up. You weren’t meant to be in here. I locked the door!”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I did knock. Quite a few times, but obviously you couldn’t hear me. But I saw that the Bentley was outside, so I knew you must be in, and I thought...” His eyes shone like stars, looking up in awe at the massive tree. “Is that us...?”

The demon swallowed down a string of expletives and instead made a strange choking noise before hurrying over to Aziraphale and attempting to steer him out the room. “Stop it. Don’t look. It’s stupid, it’s nothing, I just –”

“It’s not _stupid_ , Crowley.” The angel was rooted to the spot, refusing to budge. He glared at Crowley, directly in the eyes, and the demon wished to _Somebody_ that he hadn’t taken his glasses off in the excitement earlier.

“You clearly enjoy it,” Aziraphale continued. “Why did you feel like you have to hide this?”

“I, uh, ngh, gk, ah...”

The angel sighed. “I’m sorry for barging in. I can leave if you want me to. I was just bringing over a little something to kick off the festive season.”

He raised his arm, and Crowley only now noticed the bottle of mulled wine he had been carrying. Stuck awkwardly to the side of the label was one of those little shiny paper explosion-gift-bow-celebration-star thingys, with a little present label hanging from it. On one side was a drawing of a snowflake; the other looked like it was filled with Aziraphale’s own handwriting. The demon reached out without meaning to and turned the words towards him to read better.

> _To my dearest, Crowley,_
> 
> _I know we don’t usually celebrate, but I thought, now we’re free, and if you didn’t object, I could finally wish you a very Merry Christmas._
> 
> _All my love,_
> 
> _Aziraphale_

The demon stared at that first comma for a moment, then re-read the whole message, then swallowed loudly. Only then did he allow himself to look back up at Aziraphale.

“Um, ah, I err...” Crowley paused, took a breath, and then tried again. “Thanks, angel. That’s... I really appreciate that. Do you... uh, do you want to have some now?”

Aziraphale beamed at him, and that useless, pointless heart in Crowley’s chest quite literally skipped a beat.

“That would be lovely, my dear.”

While the wine warmed on the hob, Crowley cleared the mass of decorations from the sofa, miracling them into a cupboard somewhere, and then the two celestial beings sat there together, cups in hand.

“Merry Christmas,” the angel said quietly.

“Merry Christmas,” the demon echoed, and they clinked glasses.

The music started up again softly in the background.

_Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cosy are we (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

_We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189512473263/advent-omens-sleigh-bells-day-6-of-the-ineffable). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	7. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite angel and demon watch over a certain famous birth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware I haven't updated this in months (for various reasons), but I am still determined to finish this (preferably before the end of _this_ December). To anyone who has stuck around, thank you! To anyone new - hi! Hope you enjoy some random Christmas in the middle of your October.
> 
> This is the first chapter I haven't posted on [my tumblr](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/) first, though later chapters still will have been, because I wrote them out of order. For those chapters where there is a tumblr post of the story, I will continue to link to it in the chapter's end note. Enjoy!

The Antichrist was delivered by a snake-eyed demon in a Bentley. But when Christ was born, it was way above Aziraphale’s pay grade.

Gabriel had been the one to deliver the news. Not to Aziraphale, but to the humans. Not even humans _plural_ , just Mary. Poor, scared, lonely Mary.

She hadn’t known what to do. She trusted God, of course – her faith was her guiding light in life, it was why she had been chosen – but the realities of her society were more than a little difficult to bear.

“Hey, it’s alright. Let it out. You’re going to be okay.” He couldn’t tell her anything, of course, but he hoped the reassurances didn’t sound empty. He blessed her, and went to find out more.

* * *

“Said an angel came down and told her she was pregnant with the son of God. Then vanished!”

“That does sound rather like Gabriel.”

“And she didn’t know what to do – she’s not even married to Joseph yet, and what’s everyone going to think? What’s _he_ going to think?”

“Well, my dear, I’m sure I can sort _him_ out, at least. But otherwise I’m afraid there’s very little I can do. I haven’t even been _told_ anything. I mean, I’m sure they didn’t _mean_ to leave me out of the loop, but...”

“I’m not going to say it, angel, but you know I’m thinking it.”

“Thinking what?”

“About Gabriel. About that lot, how they treat you.”

“Oh shush, you fiend. They just have an awful lot to be thinking about. Especially if this is all true, and there actually _is_ a son of God on the way.”

“I promise you, angel, it’s true. She wasn’t lying.”

“I know, dear. I’ll... I’ll go and ask them. Say I heard some humans talking and was wondering whether the rumours were true. And whether I should be doing anything.”

“Yeah, do. And put Joseph straight, too, I don’t want him abandoning her.”

“I will, Crowley. Thank you for telling me.”

“’S alright, angel. Any time.”

* * *

The only part Aziraphale was given to play, in the end, was being part of the holy host. They sang to the shepherds and inspired them with shock and light, and that was the end of it.

But Aziraphale hadn’t been told _not_ to do anything else. And Crowley certainly hadn’t been warned off – Hell didn’t even officially know it was happening yet. So there were blessings cast over the birth that it would be safe; there was speed and concealment granted to the family and all who saw them so Herod’s men didn’t find them; there was protection over the child and his parents as he grew up.

It was a quiet kind of rebellion, if you could even call it that. It was silent and hidden, but it was there all the same. It was gentle and loving, and offered from the shadows, in the safest way they knew how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Thank you for reading!


	8. Choir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley was convinced that Aziraphale's was the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. He couldn't tell him that, though. No. Nope. Never. That would be far too risky.

Aziraphale rarely sang on Earth. He used to do it all the time, in Heaven, when it was required of him. But on Earth, he hid his voice away, as if embarrassed by it somehow.

Crowley was convinced it was the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. Aziraphale, of course, insisted that it was nothing in comparison to the other angels’ singing – Michael, for example, had a very strong voice, and Uriel was known for their perfect harmonies. Of all the members of the Heavenly choirs, Aziraphale was the _least_ likely to have the ‘most beautiful voice in creation’.

But no, that wasn’t the point. The other angels sang beautifully, sure, but quality wasn’t the whole picture, as far as Crowley could see. The point was – the point _was_ , that Aziraphale _meant_ it. When he sang, the angel could light up a room just with the _emotion_ of the song, just with the pure joy of him being able to sing it. He could move whole congregations to tears, if he tried, or hold an entire arena spellbound, if he wanted, just by singing a few notes in that gorgeous voice. You could _feel_ it when Aziraphale sang, and _that_ was the key point.

Crowley paused in the middle of his rant, worried for a moment he’d gone too far. The angel was sat on the sofa, staring up at the uncovered yellow eyes as the demon swayed slightly above him.

“Got a beautiful voice, is all ’m sayin’,” he finished, nodding and breaking eye contact. He flopped into an armchair across from Aziraphale. Where were his damn glasses? He had a bad habit of taking them off when he got drunk like this, and it was dangerous – he should find them now, and put them on, and hide. The angel shouldn’t know... _couldn’t_ know how he... how he felt about...

The angel was stood in front of him, suddenly and unexpectedly, and Crowley looked up, fear and concern etching his face.

“I didn’ mean to...” he began, not knowing what to say. “I mean, I hope I didn’t... offend you or anything, angel. I just... you’re perfect – perfectly good at singing, and I think if the other angels don’t like it, they can stuff it, you know? They can...” He swallowed and looked away. “I can go, if you want. Sorry.”

“What on Earth are you apologising for?” Aziraphale said softly. Crowley dared look up at him again, and – _oh_. The angel was staring at him with such a pure mix of love and unadulterated joy, and the demon couldn’t help but smile back, just a little.

Crowley shrugged, captivated by the shine of Aziraphale’s beautiful pale blue eyes.

Then a hand reached down and brushed a lock of hair out of Crowley’s face. Without thinking, the demon leant into the touch, before catching himself and pulling back. _Nope, just friends. Too dangerous. He’s not ready. Don’t go too fast._

“Crowley...” Aziraphale said, and somehow it was even softer than last time.

“Mmm, yeah?”

“I think...” and the angel was smiling, a soft little laugh tucked into the corner of his mouth. “I think you may have had a little too much. Would you mind terribly sobering up for me, even just a bit?”

_Anything for you, angel._ But he groaned and shrugged, tried to pretend it was an effort, tried to pretend he wasn’t hopelessly devoted to this ridiculous being of old worn waistcoats and ancient books and hiding from people for weeks at a time so he could read and eating two meals every time they went out because he could never decide and...

Crowley sobered up, just a bit. About halfway. And then his mind cleared a little, and he looked up at Aziraphale’s still-smiling face, and he realised. _Oh._

“Oh.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, my darling.”

“I thought... I thought I’d imagined it. Dreamt it.”

“I gathered.”

“I thought...” Crowley shook his head a little to clear it more. Then he grimaced up at the angel. “Don’t ever let me go that far gone again.”

“Noted, my dear.” Aziraphale was still trying to contain that laugh, and getting closer and closer to failing.

“Oh, shuddup,” Crowley groaned, and dragged the angel down towards him to smother the laugh with a kiss. It was soft and sweet, like so many they’d shared before, and yet it had the added benefit of comfort, of practice, now. It wasn’t hesitant and unsure, neither was it desperate and too long concealed. It was relaxed and loving, with barely a hint of newness remaining, and it was delightful.

“Mmm,” Aziraphale murmured. “You are sweet when you’re drunk. What was that you were saying about my singing?”

Crowley groaned, then ran gentle fingers over the angel’s cheek. “All true. All of it. You really do have a beautiful voice, no matter what those wankers say. Okay?”

Aziraphale nodded, a soft smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Good,” Crowley said, and then kissed him again and stood, wandering over to the record player on significantly steadier legs than before.

Aziraphale didn’t protest as the demon searched through the pile of records on the side, selected one, and put it on. He didn’t complain or refuse when Crowley looked at him expectantly as the introduction played, although he did roll his eyes a little. And when the lyrics began, he opened his mouth and sang with them, filling the bookshop with his own Heavenly choir’s worth of music.

And Crowley sat there, spellbound, and listened, heart ready to soar or break depending on the whim of Aziraphale’s voice and the music, and he marvelled at how lucky the two of them were.

_I love you,_ he thought fiercely, and knew he could say it out loud now, if he wanted.

_I know,_ Aziraphale’s singing told him in return. _And I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/611047229565927424/advent-omens-choir-another-very-late-response-to). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	9. Chestnuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale loves roasted chestnuts. Crowley loves Aziraphale. What more do you need to know?

Aziraphale didn’t know exactly when they started popping up. It wasn’t a date he had memorised, there wasn’t a time when he started wondering whether they would be about yet. It was more of a remembering only when it happened that it was going to happen.

Crowley knew, though. Crowley knew the date that each one of them would appear on London’s streets, the exact corners and stretches of pedestrian route they would set up on, the price each of them would charge, who sold the best, and when the best time was to go.

“Hello, Mr Crowley!” Marco called when he saw the demon coming. “Right on time!”

“Hi Marco,” Crowley said, allowing a small smile to flit across his face.

“The usual?” the man asked, already reaching for a bag.

“Course.”

The exchange was quick, practiced. Two bags for a handful of coins, and then Crowley was back in the Bentley and off towards a certain bookshop in Soho.

The tinkle of the little bell over the door signalled his entrance, as always, but today, as happened about half the time, there was no call of ‘just a minute!’ to give an indication that Aziraphale had heard. Crowley smiled softly to himself, then wandered through to the back, where he found the angel lost in the pages of one of his favourites.

The demon paused for a moment, just watching. Aziraphale looked so happy like this – deep in intense thought, yet relaxed and at peace. It was a mood he had found him in more and more often recently, now that the threat of an unexpected drop-in from Heaven had disappeared. Unguarded, secure, calm. It made Crowley’s heart flutter a little that they were allowed this now, that they had made this happen.

“Hey, angel,” he said eventually, moving into the space beside Aziraphale’s chair.

“Oh, hello, my dear!” The ethereal being looked up at the occult one, a genuine smile creasing crinkles around his eyes. He turned back to his book. “I’m almost at the end of this chapter, if it’s not urgent?”

“Not urgent at all, angel. Just came to give you these.” Crowley rested a bag of roasted chestnuts, still warm from the vendor’s trolley, on the table beside Aziraphale.

The angel dragged his eyes away from the book, and they widened in delight. “Oh, chestnuts! Are they out already? Thank you so much, my darling!”

Crowley felt a wonderful shiver of pleasure run down his spine at the casual affection in Aziraphale’s words. “Yeah, lucky I was out today or I wouldn’t have realised. Figured you’d appreciate a few.”

The angel gave Crowley a look, one eyebrow raised, that as good as said ‘I don’t believe you’. He didn’t say anything, though – both of them had accepted long ago that neither should point out the obvious in these little rituals of theirs: that nothing Crowley ever did was casual, no matter how much he tried to pretend it was.

“Well, anyway. I’m grateful,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley glowed.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, angel. Read as long as you want, I’m just going to sit here for a bit.” The demon flopped down onto the sofa and retrieved his phone from a pocket, opening Twitter to irritate a few idiots. He pretended not to notice Aziraphale’s gaze lingering for a few moments before eventually returning to the book.

Crowley was soothed by the quiet in the shop. It was the lively kind of quiet – the noise of the traffic and pedestrians outside filtering through the shelves, muffled and muted by centuries of carefully-preserved literature, with the occasional sound of an ancient page turning in Aziraphale’s hands. The chestnuts crackled, too, as they disappeared slowly, and the demon was almost asleep when he heard the soft ‘oh’ that signalled that Aziraphale had reached the bottom of the bag.

Crowley had slid down to prime napping position over the past hour or so, but this was what had stopped him going all the way yet. Without opening his eyes, he lifted a lazy hand towards Aziraphale, the second bag cupped in his long fingers, the chestnuts inside miraculously perfect in temperature. He could practically feel Aziraphale’s affection radiating through the bookshop, and once the bag was accepted, Crowley curled his arm back into the rest of his body and fell asleep wrapped in the warmth of an angel’s love.

Just for times like this, winter was Crowley’s favourite season of the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/615280737597456384/advent-omens-chestnuts-ive-had-this-one-half). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	10. Gold & Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celestials are not human. They all have marks which show that.

“Where's yours?”

It was a simple question, but indelicately asked, and Crowley regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He cringed visibly, but let the question stand. The angel didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.

The query wasn’t _entirely_ out of the blue, at least. They were lounging on the sofa in the bookshop together, hiding away from the cold as the grey January morning dawned outside, and Aziraphale had been the one to broach the subject.

“I’ve always liked your tattoo,” he’d said, looking at it with soft eyes, and then dared to reach out and run a finger along it, tracing the curves of the snake’s sinuous body. Crowley had shivered at the contact, a ripple coursing down his spine.

“Mmm?” Crowley had asked, not trusting himself to speak.

“Yes. Well, I suppose my first reaction was ‘oh, that’s neat’ rather than anything particularly admiring – I’d been expecting something rather more like Hastur or Beelzebub’s outward appearance, you see – but even then I thought it rather suited you. Makes you look very dashing.”

Crowley had looked at him, then, and exaggeratedly rolled his uncovered eyes.

“I mean, I do still have the stuff that the others do,” he had said. “You know, these.” He indicated his yellow irises and slash-shaped pupils. “Scales,” he said broadly. “Tendency to get cold.”

Aziraphale had huffed a little and gave him a look, which Crowley had accepted with a raised palm and a nod.

“I’m just saying, I like it. It’s very you, my dear. As are your eyes, and your scales. They’re all...”

“Signifiers of Hell?”

“ _Crowley!_ I was going to say... reminders of when we met. Reminders of who we are, what we went through for each other. If...” The angel had paled slightly then. “If that makes sense. If that doesn’t sound too... much.”

“Not at all, angel,” Crowley had breathed, thinking _I am the luckiest being in the whole damn world, in the whole of creation. How am I allowed this? How is that possible?_

And then he’d set to thinking, and he’d realised something. He didn’t know where Aziraphale’s was.

Not a signifier of Hell or animal aspect or anything, obviously. But the opposite, the thing Crowley himself had lost as he Fell. A marker of Heaven.

And before he could stop himself, he’d asked the question. And now the angel was staring down at his own fingers knotting themselves together, saying nothing, and Crowley was terrified he’d gone too far.

He wanted to reach out, to still the nerves that were twisting those hands, to offer him some kind of physical reassurance, to let him know it was okay. Then he remembered he _could_ do that now, and covered the angel’s anxious fiddling with his own hand.

“Hey,” he said gently. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I asked, I don’t have to know. I was just wondering aloud.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Aziraphale dared a glance up, and there was something hidden in his eyes that made Crowley’s heart clench. “I just... It’s not very angelic.”

Crowley gave a lopsided smile. “Weren’t you just saying that you liked the fact mine weren’t very demonic?”

Aziraphale shook his head automatically, then seemed to pause and consider this. His eyes flicked to Crowley’s again, then away, then back down to their three hands together. Crowley gave the angel’s a squeeze, then loosened his grip and allowed Aziraphale to entwine his fingers with Crowley’s, the angel’s other hand coming to rest on Crowley’s wrist, his thumb moving softly back and forth across the demon’s skin.

“It’s not really... _there_ , most of the time,” Aziraphale began, and Crowley didn’t ask him to explain. He would get there, in his own time. He gave the angel’s hand another encouraging squeeze, and waited.

“It’s like... a fish, I suppose. Or a dolphin. When you’re looking at the sea, and you’re on it, you’re never quite sure if that glimmer is an animal, or just the sun on the waves. That’s what mine’s like. You can’t see it most of the time, and then when you do, you’re often not sure if you were just imagining it.”

After a long moment of silence, the demon dared a question. “What does it look like?” he breathed. The angel smiled softly, sadly.

“Just little flecks of silver,” he said quietly. “Hardly angelic at all, really. Most have gold, and the ones that don’t have a rainbow of colour. Or bronze, that’s quite common. Rose gold. But not many silver.”

Crowley’s own had been gold, back when he’d had a Heavenly marker rather than a Hellish one. It had marked his eyes as well as his skin, and when the Fall had burnt him, his sockets had felt like they were on fire. The shine, the glimmer of them had been burnt away, leaving only the acid-yellow of his serpent eyes, and he’d hated it, was revolted by it, the first time he’d seen his new reflection.

He didn’t volunteer that information.

“Silver is just as beautiful,” the demon said instead, quietly, as if not sure he wanted Aziraphale to hear him. “And it’s stronger. Gold sets itself apart, doesn’t like... bonding with other things. Elements. Silver does.”

The angel’s thumb, brushing up and down against the delicate part of Crowley’s wrist, slowed to a stop. Crowley was worried for a minute that he’d said too much. But then Aziraphale squeezed his hand and looked up at him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where was yours?”

Crowley swallowed.

“Where it is now, mostly.” He gestured to his eyes. “These... used to shine.”

Aziraphale looked like he was about to start crying. Crowley shook his head, opened his mouth to say _no, no angel, don’t cry for me, please, I don’t miss them, I don’t miss what I was,_ but the ethereal being shushed him and squeezed his hand tighter.

Then the hand at his wrist lifted to instead cup his cheek, fingertips resting against the snake at his temple. “They still do, my dear. They still do.”

Crowley couldn’t reply for a second, something like a sob suddenly blocking his throat. The angel gave him a watery smile, and then reached his hand round further, creeping into Crowley’s hair and then gently, gently pulling his head forwards and down slightly.

The demon closed his eyes and felt the angel’s soft kisses land with wonderful tenderness on each of his eyelids.

Aziraphale rested his forehead against Crowley’s, and whispered to him – words of awe, words of love, words for him and him alone.

“Hey,” Crowley said eventually, after the tears had been wiped away and they’d shared the stillness for a little while longer. “This was meant to be about me comforting you. How’d you turn it back to me?”

“It’s a talent,” Aziraphale said, and there was the soft teasing again, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Well, anyway. I want you to know you’re beautiful too, and plenty enough angelic for me. Don’t listen to those wankers Upstairs. You’re perfect.”

Aziraphale’s lower lip wobbled again, and Crowley bit his own.

“What a pair we make,” the angel said, the hint of a smile and the shine of tears mixed together in his expression. “Not really an angel and not really a demon. Gold and silver, and yet not really either at all.”

“Earthly,” Crowley said decisively. “Not held by either Upstairs or Downstairs, just balanced in the middle.”

“Yes. I like that. Not of Heaven or Hell; of Earth.” The angel gave a wry smile. “Almost like it was always meant to be.”

Crowley grimaced. “Not fate, angel. We made our choices.” He paused. “But maybe it was like that just in case. I don’t think either of us could ever understand it, but...” He smirked at himself, at his ridiculousness, and then said it anyway.

“Maybe it’s just ineffable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/611609771323375616/drawlight-freyjawriter24-advent-omens-gold). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	11. Pine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ineffables meet in a forest, pre-Arrangement, around the year 1000. Pining, surrounded by pines.

It hadn’t snowed yet, but the cold air was beginning to settle on the trees, clinging to any remaining leaves as frost in the morning, making their bark cool and damp to the touch throughout the day. The seasonal trees had already turned skeletal as winter crept in, but the pines were as green as ever, preparing for snowfall and sheltering the occasional people to pass below.

“Why didn’t you take a horse, my dear?”

“Ugh. Painful things, horses. Couldn’t be bothered with it. Rather walk.”

These two in particular were the only ones the trees had seen in days. They’d bumped into each other in the middle of a large forest, on their way to fulfil their respective miracles, and rather fortuitously were now heading in the same direction. The pines watched, knowing kin when they saw them.

“Wait, why didn’t you?”

“Sorry?” Aziraphale’s thoughts had apparently already wandered, and he looked at Crowley with confusion.

“Take a horse,” Crowley reminded him. “Why didn’t you?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, looking like he was weighing up the pros and cons of telling the demon anything. “I, er... I did.”

“What do you mean, you did?” Crowley looked around them, as if expecting a horse to suddenly materialise from among the pine trees. “Where is it, then?”

“Um, I... I got mugged.”

“You got mugged,” Crowley said flatly. There was no hint of a question, but he was asking all the same.

“Yes, well...” Aziraphale trailed off. The demon tried not to stare out the corner of his eyes, and they walked on in silence for a while as the angel twisted his hands in front of him, trying to figure out the best way to explain what had happened.

Crowley waited patiently for him to speak. He knew it couldn’t have been _bad_ – there wasn’t all that much humans could really do to a celestial being anyway, especially not with miracles easily to hand, and the angel clearly hadn’t been discorporated, or even particularly roughed up, from the look of it. But all the same, Aziraphale’s silence said that _something_ had happened. And he was without a horse, so...

“He was really quite a nice young man, really,” Aziraphale said finally. “And it was his first time attempting something of that sort – which I suppose was why he was trying it on someone on a _horse_ , as if that was a sensible way to go about it, that was inexperience you see – so I realised it was actually a real opportunity to do some good –”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Crowley said, touching the angel’s arm to both stop him and turn him to face him. “You’re saying he _failed_ to mug you?”

“Well, ah, quite.” Aziraphale looked sheepish. “I told him becoming a bandit was a rather dangerous and sinful pastime, and that he would be much better off making the most of a kind stranger’s offer and getting himself set up somewhere with a proper job. Become a smith’s apprentice or a farmer, that sort of thing.”

Crowley stared at the angel in front of him. “What?”

Aziraphale sighed in a slightly irritated way, eyes flicking between the demon’s yellow gaze and the safety of the needle-strewn floor. “I gave him my horse, alright? He was such a dreadful mess at the whole thing, and I just thought – well, I thought if he had a horse to sell and maybe some small change for a room for the night, and he did look rather thin, so I gave him my food too...”

The demon was just staring, open-mouthed. Words ricocheted around the inside of his skull, a memory playing over and over and over again.

_I gave it away!_

_You what?!_

“You...” Crowley stuttered through a series of unintelligible sounds before finding his words again. “You _gave_ your _horse_ a _way_?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said wretchedly, wringing his hands even more. “Oh dear, yes I did. Was that a silly thing to do? He’ll probably become a bandit anyway, and now I’ve gone and given him a horse to do it on, oh dear.”

“No, no!” the demon said quickly. The angel looked up sharply. “I think...” _I gave it away!_ “I think you did the right thing. It was kind, right? That’s all you need to be.”

And suddenly those worry lines vanished and that look – oh, Lord, that blinding look of pure joyful gratefulness was there instead. Crowley suddenly felt remarkably weak at the knees and blinked once to remind himself to focus.

“Oh, _thank_ you, Crowley. That really – that does mean a lot, you know. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” the demon said, shifting slightly uncomfortably where he stood. After a second he made a small gesture, and the two of them continued on with their walk.

Privately, Crowley marvelled at the being beside him. _He’s done it again. Just – click, simple as that, here’s my horse, here’s my money, here’s my food, here’s my flaming sword, now off you go and make a better life for yourself out in the world. He just... That’s just who he is._

_And Damned Satan in Hell, I love him for it._

The demon looked sideways at Aziraphale. He was gazing vaguely ahead of them as they walked, but the slight crease between his eyebrows said he wasn’t really thinking about the road ahead – more likely he was planning how to word all this to Gabriel or one of the other archangels if he was questioned for it. Or he was thinking of whatever the business was that he had to take care of in the town up ahead. Either way, he wasn’t paying attention to Crowley. Which for the moment suited the demon just fine.

And so the angel and the demon walked along, loosely together. Occasionally one would glance up at the other to watch them – Crowley mostly, sneaking looks every few steps, looking away hurriedly whenever the angel’s eyes met his. But when the demon looked over and found Aziraphale already staring back, the angel simply smiled and sent Crowley’s useless, unnecessary heart into overtime inside his chest.

After about another twenty minutes of walking, the forest began to become more densely packed, the trunks of the pine trees clumped more closely together. Crowley used it as an excuse to walk a little closer beside Aziraphale than he had been, still stealing glances at the wonder that was this being that was far too good for Heaven.

This was still early days. The Arrangement hadn’t yet been put in place, but it was only one drunken night away from being agreed to. They had yet to regularly meet and update one another on world events, but their whenever they happened to find each other the conversation was friendly, interested, enjoyable. Too much was still to happen to draw them together, but there was already something beneath it all – something barely named on one side, and firmly ignored and buried on the other. And so they wandered on towards their joint destination, pining among pines, waiting for the first snowfall of the season.

After another five minutes, Crowley subtly snaked his hand into his bag. There was some food in there – which he had taken to carrying around for entirely un-Aziraphale-related reasons – and if the angel had given his own snacks away, well then...

 _Ah, there we are._ His fingers closed around something round, and a small voice in the back of Crowley’s mind – the part that wasn’t wholly focused on attempting to make Aziraphale smile – laughed.

“Here, angel. Fancy a snack?” Crowley held out the fruit, an innocent expression on his face.

“Oh, really? Thank you, Crowley, that’s –” Aziraphale froze for a second, eyes slightly widened, hand hovering over the apple.

Then he took it anyway. “That’s so lovely of you, Crowley, thank you,” he said, expression soft in genuine pleasure, all trace of uncertainty gone. He took a bite, teeth making a satisfying crunch into the juicy flesh, eyes closed in enjoyment.

Then the angel’s pale blue eyes darted back up to meet Crowley’s sulphur ones, and Aziraphale gave a sly grin. “I couldn’t possibly eat it all, though. We should share it.”

The demon looked at the apple, a single bite taken out of it, now being offered back to him. His gaze flicked back to the angel holding out the fruit, and he saw a flash of something there – something daring him, something laughing.

Crowley took the fruit, and took a bite right next to where the angel had. He chewed and swallowed, never breaking eye contact.

Then the pair of them burst out laughing.

“You _snake_!”

“You took it!”

“So did you!”

“...Fair enough.”

And so they passed the rest of the walk in jovial conversation, sharing Crowley’s carefully curated selection of food, updating and reminiscing, joking and laughing together. The pine trees smiled to themselves, or would have if they could, and the celestial beings continued through and out of the forest, to their own blessings and temptations.

And if that night there was wine to be had, and further laughter and further discussion and further debate, and finally an agreement reached, an Arrangement formed – well, it was all for the best in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189898807125/advent-omens-pine-this-is-for-the-day-11-prompt). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	12. Caroling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis take a young Warlock Dowling out carol singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December isn't over yet! Here, have a bunch more of these...

“It’s a wonderful tradition,” Nanny had said temptingly to a shattered-looking Harriet. “And it’ll get him out of your hair for a few hours right when you need it.”

“It’s important for building confidence and character,” she’d said briskly to Thaddeus later. “And how else are you expecting him to excercise those fine lungs of his if not through singing?”

“Not to mention,” she’d added to both of them. “I think he’ll enjoy it.”

Neither of them seemed much interested in that point.

Still, they’d agreed. Eventually. And so it was that Warlock was allowed out of the house for a few hours - carefully guarded by his Nanny, his beloved gardener, and a black-suited man who didn’t look nearly half as good as Ashtoreth in out-of-season sunglasses.

It was a ridiculous little procession; three adults shepherding around one tiny child from house to house. Crowley had muttered something venemous about helicopters under her breath once the circumstances were made clear, but Aziraphale didn’t recognise the reference and decided not to bother her to explain it until she was a little less wound up by the looming attentiveness of it all.

But at least they were away from everything for a little while. Away from the fraught discussions and tight-lipped smiles, the distant sounds of shouting from the opposite end of the house and the prolonged deadly silences of mealtimes. Christmas at the Dowling household, it seemed, was an intense affair. And an environment not ideal to be raising a child in.

That was how the thought of carol singing had popped up. An excuse for Warlock to get out of the house, be as loud as he liked (away from frayed tempers), and just be a little more relaxed for a change.

“Is this even a thing people do anymore, angel?” Ashtoreth had muttered under her breath as they approached the first house. “Did they even do it here in the first place?”

Francis had paused, looking suddenly uncertain. “Well, I’m certain they _used_ to, at the very least. There was one annoying group that used to turn up at the shop every December, but that was... Well, it can’t have been more than a few years ago, at most.”

Ashtoreth had pursed her lips. “A few years ago?” She tried very hard not to roll her eyes, and settled for a slow, restrained sigh instead. It appeared as a cloud in front of her on the chilly evening air. “So that, what? Anywhere from a decade to a century ago, then?”

“Oh, hush, you. It’s just a bit of fun. I’m sure the neighbours won’t mind, anyway.”

They didn’t, thankfully – although whether that was down to the kindness of their own hearts, the fervent belief of one of the Lord’s own angels of the inherent goodness of the human soul, or a skillfully subtle miracle of some sort, it wasn’t clear.

“We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!” Warlock stumbled out over and over, cheeks pink with exhilaration, nose pink with the cold.

“Aww,” the humans in the doorway said over and over. Most of them went fumbling for some small change to hand over into Francis’s hastily-miracled charity bucket, though several of them handed actual notes to the small child instead, and one or two seemed a little confused by the whole thing and offered Warlock chocolates and sweets instead, as if he was a month and a half late to Halloween.

The little Antichrist was beside himself with excitement at the whole thing. He was getting to _sing_ , and _loudly_ at that, which he wasn't often allowed to do at home. He was getting to go outside, too, at _night_ , of all things, when the stars were out and there was already frost beginning to form on each blade of grass. And he was doing it all with Nanny and Brother Francis, his two favourite people in the whole entire world.

By the time he got home, he was exhausted. He’d sung ‘Away in a Manger’ and ‘Silent Night’ more times than he could count up to on his fingers, and the little coin bucket was making a very satisfying noise whenever Nanny shook it right.

“Can we do that again?”

“Maybe, hellion. We’ll see what your mummy and daddy say, yes?”

Warlock heaved a great sigh. “Okay.”

It was a tough sell to the Dowlings, every year. But Ashtoreth was a tough woman to argue with. And every time Warlock asked her to, she managed to convince them. For as long as she was Warlock’s Nanny, the boy was allowed to march down the road and sing at the top of his voice at least once a year, flanked by security guards, a gardener, and a nanny (who could, on occasion, be convinced to join in).

It didn’t last forever, of course. Nothing ever does. But that was, and remained, one of Warlock’s happiest memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Thank you for reading!


	13. Wrapping Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale wrap Christmas presents for Warlock in the run-up to their first winter as Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Crowley looked up at the faux-gardener standing in her bedroom doorway.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped, flaring her nostrils at him. She turned back to the unruly object in her hands and carefully pressed the edges of it into place. “There, now,” she murmured under her breath. “Stay.”

It didn’t. The shiny, slippery paper slid over itself and refused to line up neatly while she fumbled one-handed for a strip of Sellotape.

“Do you want some help?”

Crowley refused to answer that. First of all, she was a demon, a being of immense power and capability, and she could do anything she damn well pleased. Secondly, _he_ was an angel, her hereditary enemy – as he kept feeling the need to remind her – and she did _not_ need help from the likes of _him_. And _thirdly_... Yes. Yes, she did want help.

She was too proud to admit it, though. She struggled for a few moments longer, eventually wrangling the tape dispenser into submission between her feet and tearing off a strip with the hand that wasn’t failing to hold the wrapping paper in place around the ridiculously unevenly-shaped present. She fidgeted the paper around in her long fingers, trying to make it fit some semblance of neat before carefully applying the sticky tape - which, inevitably, got caught on first herself, then itself, then the paper. It ended up as a crinkled mess, stuck at an annoyingly unhelpful angle across only part of the overlap where Crowley wanted it. She groaned deeply and tried not to scream.

“Here,” Aziraphale said, striding into the room at last and crouching beside her on the floor. “Do you want me to hold it in place while you get the Sellotape? Or vice versa?”

“Ugh,” Crowley said, glaring reproachfully at the package before her. “Maybe.”

“Okay, then.”

It was, admittedly, much faster and more successful with the two of them doing it together. That present was finished in a matter of minutes, and the rest were sorted in no time.

“Why, out of interest,” Aziraphale began as they packed the presents away out of sight, ready to manifest themselves under the tree with the rest of Santa’s deliveries on Christmas morning, “did you choose to wrap them by hand? I would have expected you to... well. Miracle them to perfection.”

“Well, that’s not really in the spirit of things, is it?” Crowley shrugged. “I mean... We’re living as humans. Might as well embrace the whole shebang.”

“I suppose so. Though sometimes the odd miracle does save a whole lot of bother...”

“Are you telling me you did all yours by miracle?”

Aziraphale looked a little sheepish. “Perhaps. I rather thought it would be an easy thing to explain away to Gabriel, after all – presents in aid of a Christian-inspired ceremony, presented with the neatness of Heaven, and all that.”

Crowley wasn’t entirely sure what emotion she was feeling right then, but it had something to do with shock, surprise, indignation, and – confusingly – awe.

“Well, then,” she said, for lack of anything better. “Makes a change, I s’pose. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you, finally.”

“We have rather switched roles,” Aziraphale mused thoughtfully. “I would have thought, before now, that I was the one who spent more time over things. You’re always saying how slow I am to catch up with things, and I do like to take care over what’s important. Whereas you’re the opposite. Your car, for example, and your clothes – fast fashion, and all that.” He paused. “What made you do it differently today?”

“I just...”

If she was honest, she hadn’t really thought about it. At first, the idea of miracling the presents wrapped simply hadn’t occurred to her, and once she was deep into the process (and getting more than a little frustrated with it) she’d decided not to snap it into order on principle. For what reason, though, she hadn’t quite examined.

“Just felt right,” she said eventually. “Doing it right for Warlock, y’know. These things are meant to be a little rough around the edges, that’s what makes them real. Not everything’s perfect in life, angel, you should know that by now.”

“I suppose so,” Aziraphale said. “But the illusion of it can be nice, for a day at least.”

Crowley shrugged. “Yeah, that makes sense too.”

They sat there for a moment, surrounded by the debris of the last hour’s work – tape, scissors, leftover paper, spare labels, pieces of ribbon and string. None of it was perfect – nothing ever was – but perhaps it didn’t need to be. Perhaps it was good enough all the same.

Crowley hoped so. She really, really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Thank you for reading!


	14. Eggnog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some soft, alcohol-related winter fluff. Who _did_ invent eggnog, anyway?

“Who on Earth came up with eggnog? Or was it one of them lot?” Crowley did a complicated manoeuvre with his hand that, sober, would have looked like a finger pointed up and down, to indicate the celestials that hadn’t decided to save the Earth and make it their home.

“’M not sure,” said Aziraphale, frowning at his glass and stifling a burp. “Prob’ly just the humans.”

“Damn strange kinda drink,” Crowley said, and knocked back the rest of his glass before leaning forward for a refill.

Aziraphale smiled fondly at the demon, a soft warmth touching his face and filling him from the inside out. _This is Paradise,_ he decided. _Right here, on Earth. This is perfection._

Crowley caught him staring and waggled his eyebrows. Aziraphale blushed deeper, but didn’t look away. He didn’t have to, now. They could just be themselves, and that was the beauty of it. No more hiding.

“I love you,” the angel said, and the demon’s face went slack and bright red almost instantly. This wasn’t the first time he’d said it – Hell, it wasn’t even in the first thousand – but the reaction was still the same for the time being, and Aziraphale revelled in the rebelliousness of the whole thing. _We can say that, now! It's not a secret anymore!_

“I love you too, angel,” Crowley eventually croaked out, and then Aziraphale just _had_ to go over there and hold him. The demon folded into his arms easily, comfortably, like they’d already done this a hundred times (and they _had_ , that was the miracle of it all), and Aziraphale tilted his head to kiss the snake coiled at Crowley’s temple, to kiss all of him at once, and the demon shivered, and they settled in together, for a long night of soft kisses and warm cuddles and eggnog and laughter and love.

 _Yes,_ Aziraphale thought, pulling Crowley in closer. _This is Paradise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/614558851114713088/advent-omens-eggnog-hello-april-hello). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	15. Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crawley spend the first snowfall together.

They were there for the first rain, the first storm, stood up on the Wall of Eden together. One used his wing to shelter the other, and so something began – something over six thousand years long, something still growing and evolving to this day.

But there were other firsts. And they spent some of those together, too.

“Gosh, I think this is as cold as it’s ever been!”

Crawley didn’t reply. The demon was currently wrapped up in several layers of fluffy animal skins, which the humans had recently taken to wearing to stave off the cold. Only her sharp golden eyes peered out of the bundle from where she was huddled on the ground.

Aziraphale looked out over the view before them. Everything looked rather grey at the moment, but this was still a world where everything was new, so even that was beautiful in some strange way. Slate-coloured clouds above gave way to rocky, smoke-coloured ground below, and there was very little of anything living around here to add a splash of brightness to the scene. It was monochromatic simplicity, and in a way, it reflected what Heaven currently looked like, which... Well, Aziraphale didn’t exactly _like_ it, but he could appreciate the elegance of the design.

Crawley was trying very hard not to shiver. Apparently that was something these corporations did when it got too cold, and now that it was at the point where water was casually freezing into an intriguing new thing called ‘ice’, her human-shaped body was attempting to do so almost non-stop.

The demon wasn’t precisely cold-blooded, but it certainly didn’t help that her original form was a snake. The chill air seemed to cut right to her bones, no matter how many layers she wore, and she was almost considering starting a fire and then jumping into it just to feel warm again. Discorporation via flame almost seemed worth it right now.

She scowled out at the cold air from her little nest of not-enough warmth, and looked up at the angel. He was surveying the area with chilled-to-pink cheeks, wearing barely more layers than he had in the heat of the desert, and she should have been annoyed at him, angry at his joy, jealous at his ignorance of the cold. But there was such... _wonder_ , there, in his face, as if all of creation was just making itself known to him, in secret, and he was the only one who knew it all, and he knew the value of that knowledge.

And then Aziraphale looked down at her, and saw her shivering, and leant down to add another fur to the pile, pushing a warm miracle into her back as he draped the covering around her, and he sat beside the demon and talked about the world as if it was new (which it was) and precious (which it was) and all theirs, made just for them (which it... wasn’t, not really). But the angel was inviting her into his knowledge, his secret gift of creation, and Crawley couldn’t help but feel something warm bubble up in her chest at that.

Then the angel gave a cry, and pointed upwards.

“ _Look_ , Crawley!”

She followed the line of his finger into the air, upwards at the pale sky, and at first it looked like there was nothing, just endless rolls of grey and white obscuring the only colour that would be visible for miles around.

Then her eyes caught a hint of motion, and then again, somewhere else in her field of vision, and then another, and then another. She tracked the movement downwards, and it was only when the background wasn’t clouds anymore that they stood out against the grey enough to be seen.

_Snow._

Where the word came from was anyone’s guess – had Adam named this, too? Was it Eve’s word, plucked from the ether in the same way these little white flakes were? Had Crawley made it up herself, in her head, without realising? Had God dared reach into the demon’s mind to put it there herself?

Neither of the celestial beings had seen snowfall before – which made sense, this being the first in all creation. Aziraphale stood and grinned up at the new phenomenon, floating from the sky like his own feathery down, all soft and graceful and near-weightless. Crawley watched too, but from the safety of her huddled pile of furs, not daring to risk the cold to try this new thing before she knew what it was.

Aziraphale was excited for it, though. His eyes were wide and sparkling with awe, his mouth open and gasping exclamations every few moments.

“Oh! It’s cold!” he said, allowing flakes of the snow to land on his outstretched bare hands.

He brought it to his face for closer inspection, and the demon watched as a confused frown creased his brow, before it smoothed again in surprise.

“Crawley... I think it’s ice!”

“Hmm?”

“You know, frozen water! It’s the same stuff, but... rather than freezing in sheets, it’s formed crystals of some kind...” He peered closer still, forehead crinkling again as the snowflakes in his palm melted, then reaching out for more and this time stabilising them with a miracle.

“Here, look,” the angel said, moving closer to Crawley, and in that moment she saw a flash of white movement at the edge of her vision, and started.

Because of the angle of her body, and the many layers of furs piled over her shoulders and around her head, her periphery was reduced slightly, and turning her head made little difference to what she could and could not see. As a result, it wasn’t until the angel had crouched down right beside her and held out his hand for her to see this new secret, that she realised that his wings were out. That one was hanging softly behind him, relaxed. That the other, the left, was extended, just as it had been before.

She looked around herself, and sure enough, there was a slight ring around her on the floor. Where the snowflakes touched the ground, they were settling, making the frozen rock their home – but the flakes stopped a short distance from Crawley’s furs, prevented from touching her by the angel’s protective wing.

The strange sensation in the demon’s chest flushed warmer.

Aziraphale was pointing out the details of the snowflakes he’d managed to preserve on his skin, and Crawley came back to herself in time to hear the important parts of what he was saying.“...six sides too, I wonder if they’re all like that? They’re all so different, some of them flat, some of them like tubes, some of them pointing out at all angles – I wonder if any are the same?”

_Are there matching pairs, somewhere out here, lost and separated from each other amidst the endlessness of creation, kept apart by circumstance?_

Crawley wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but she quickly shoved it aside and busied herself with being extra demonic.

“Shame it has to be so bloody cold for them to happen,” she grumbled. “I wish it would just warm up.”

“Here,” the angel said gently, and he was offering his hand to her again. She looked at it for a second, stretched out towards her, questioning. And then she nodded.

Aziraphale moved his hand to the furs, burrowed into them, and touched her chest over her corporation’s heart. She’d expected him to feel cold, either the contact itself or the draft of the parting layers, but neither was true. And from the instant of contact, she felt her whole body flood with heat, the sensation rushing through her right to the ends of her fingers and toes.

“Ngh,” Crawley said, somewhat involuntarily. Then, “thanks, angel.”

“No problem at all,” he said, smiling down at her with that radiant smile, and _oh_ , that would be enough to warm her up too, if he hadn’t already set her on fire.

She stood, testing the limits of her newly-miracled warmth, and the angel rose with her, face tilted upwards to the clouded sky, his wing still unobtrusively extended over her head.

“It’s beautiful,” the angel said reverently, and the demon looked at the softness of his face, the beauty of his awestruck eyes, the flush of pink at his cheeks and the surprising brilliance of that small smile, and she was inclined to agree.

Then, suddenly, Aziraphale stuck his tongue out.

Crawley couldn’t help but let out a little unbidden laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Tasti’ i’,” the angel said, pink tongue still extended, and Crawley laughed again in strange exhilaration. Then the tongue suddenly vanished back in, and Aziraphale turned to her with a new layer of excitement to him.

“It’s ice! It’s cold!”

“I thought you’d already established that?” she said, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

“But I was _right_ ,” he said enthusiastically, and somehow that was wonderful, somehow that was so incredibly endearing, somehow that was so damn _hilarious_.

Crawley started laughing, and she couldn’t stop.

“What?” Aziraphale asked, tilting his head to one side. When no reply but laughter came, his face dropped slightly and he repeated the question.

“Just you, angel,” Crawley managed to choke out.

“What about me?”

She stopped laughing abruptly at his expression, and couldn’t help but reach out and touch his shoulder, just for a second.

“Nothing bad, angel, just... You’re so... happy, about all this. It’s so sweet and innocent, and, you know, angelic and pure. You’re so _joyful_ , and it’s just so...” She trailed off, at a loss, and shrugged. “Look, it’s not a bad thing. I’m not laughing at you, promise. Just think it’s cute, you know? How excited you are.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, uncertain for a moment. Then he brightened. “Thank you.”

She frowned. “What for?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The compliment, I suppose.” He paused, turning to look out at the steadily-filling snowscape before them. “But also... being here. Sharing this with me. Listening to me talk. I don’t get that much.”

A switch flicked somewhere inside Crawley, and suddenly she almost felt like crying.

But then that radiant smile was back, and the angel gave her a mischievous look.

“I wonder what it feels like to walk on.”

“Wha– Oh, angel, no, it’ll be _freezing_ , you can’t –”

But it was too late, of course – Aziraphale had already freed his foot of its warm covering and stepped forwards into the crystallised ice. The footfall made a soft, muffled _crunch_ , and then a visible shiver ran over the angel, and the two celestial beings locked eyes and laughed, harder and more joyfully than... well, than ever before on Earth. Than ever before in creation.

They passed the rest of the snowfall in unabashed pleasure, the demon laughing harder and harder as the angel experimented with what this new substance could do – touching it, lying down in it, balling it up in his hands, making himself shiver with the cold of it, and eventually watching the melt of it against a tiny lick of Crawley’s hellfire. The angel watched, entranced, and then froze the water up again, and exclaimed when he found that he couldn’t replicate the soft patterns of the flakes in this little puddle of melted snow.

“Amazing,” he breathed, and the demon couldn’t help but laugh again, and Aziraphale caught her eye and laughed with her, and it was like all the joy in the universe had been caught up and sprinkled around them in this snowy little corner of Earth, just for them.

“I think I like the snow,” she admitted later, eventually.

“Not the cold, though,” the angel pointed out.

“No, not the cold. But I like the snow.”

The two shared a secret smile, and then parted ways in the fading light, tucking away the memories of that laughter for when they might need it another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/610952889901498368/advent-omens-laughter-i-started-this-one-a-while). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	16. Ice Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawley rails at God and struggles to survive an ice storm in the early days of inhabiting a corporation.

Crawley’s limbs were shaking so hard, they half believed all four of them were going to fall away, leaving their human corporation as limbless as their other form. Their teeth were chattering so much, they half expected them to fly out of their mouth and be lost forever. What good would a toothless demon be? Dagon would have a field day.

The problem was, there was nowhere to go to sort themself out. Crawley was already tucked into the only shelter available, crammed tight into a nook between two rocks, which served to keep the wind off, mostly, but not the freezing rain.

Crawley swore in a vaguely upwards direction. “ _Why_ would you let this be a thing?” they asked bitterly, speaking around the stutter that the chill was giving them. “You’ve got perfectly good _rain_ for drenching and drowning people with, perfectly good _snow_ for looking pretty and freezing people to death, why do you need something that’s both? Thisss...” The word came to mind with barely a hesitation. “ _Sleet_ is the most _Hellish_ thing you could’ve put on Earth. It’s diabolical, that’s what it is. Why the _Heaven_ would you _do_ that?”

There was no reply, of course, though Crawley had given up expecting one shortly after the black had burned into their wings and their being had realigned itself with its new form. They swore again, for good measure, then tried again to focus on bringing a lick of Hellfire into existence.

“Come on,” they muttered, groaning at the effort. But it was too cold – there wasn’t enough heat available in their body to draw the flame to life. They couldn’t just snap themself warm, either – aside from the slightly irrelevant fact that they couldn’t feel their fingers properly and their hands were shaking too much to click at all, they also simply couldn’t control their shaking enough to put the right sort of effort into a miracle.

It was impossible, in other words. They slumped back, defeated.

They’d soon learn how long it would take for a demon’s corporation to succumb to the cold – or else they’d survive until the end of the ice storm and never live anywhere even close to cold ever again. An African desert might be nice, though a tad too boring and nowhere near green enough. A South American rainforest? It’d be green, that’s for sure, but it would be wet – warm wet, but wet all the same. Hmm, something to consider. There was always the Iberian peninsula, or those little islands in the Mediterranean, or the entire continent of Australia. That might be nice.

The thoughts of hot places were not, unfortunately, doing anything particularly to warm Crawley up _now_. Was it possible to shake apart at the atomic level? Nah, probably not – atoms were _meant_ to shake, weren’t they? Atomic vibrations – Crawley was pretty sure they remembered a lecture on that or something in Heaven. Hadn’t seemed to come up much when working at a macro level in the universe. Stars were nice that way – simple, just pressure and fire. Hot. Oh, lord, to be sitting beside a star right now...

“Hello?”

The shout was unexpected, and made Crawley jump. They listened carefully, and peered out into the rushing grey of falling sleet. There was a lot of movement, but nothing to suggest a person. Perhaps they’d imagined it?

“Hello?” the voice called again. “Is that someone up there?”

Crawley got a fix on the direction it was coming from this time, and peered downwards through the ice-filled air. There _was_ someone there, blurry and indefinite through the storm, but most likely solid.

A groan went through the demon’s body. It was probably a helpful human from some vaguely-nearby settlement or other – not that there were many of those round here just yet – and that meant if Crawley accepted the help – which they very, very much wanted to do – they’d be expected to put some _work_ into the situation. Tempt a few humans, cause some trouble, that kind of thing. Which they were very much _not_ in the mood for right now.

Still. It was better than lasting out the night in _this_.

“Up here,” they called into the wind.

“I’m on my way!” the voice shouted back. Crawley groaned again, shut their eyes, and tried to focus some energy into their joints so they’d be able to follow the human back down the hill.

“Almost there!” the stranger called, and Crawley stopped focusing on getting their limbs moving for a second. That voice... They could be imagining it, but it almost sounded like...“Crawley? Is that you there?”

“Angel?”

Aziraphale was dressed head-to-toe in a thick layer of animal skins, fur and fabric keeping the warmth in and protecting his skin from the cold. By comparison, Crawley looked horrendously underprepared in their thin clothing, no matter how many layers the demon had miracled on.

“What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Freezing to death, by the feel of it,” they muttered, and then failed to suppress a massive shiver.

“Oh, goodness, look at the state of you,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. He crouched in front of Crawley, pulled off a mitten, and reached out towards the demon, his pink fingers pausing a foot away.

“May I?” the angel asked.

Crawley nodded, unashamedly desperate. Aziraphale reached closer, and then with a touch it was all over. Warmth blossomed across the demon’s chest, spreading out across their skin and deep into their corporation, sliding between and within their bones, warming every fibre of them. They sighed happily as the warmth of the miracle extended outwards, heating and drying their sodden clothes even as the sleet continued to beat down.

“You need some better clothes, too, really,” Aziraphale said, but Crawley shook their head.

“I’ll do it, angel. Feeling better already.” A snap of the fingers, and Crawley was wearing a matching outfit to Aziraphale – albeit one made with darker-coloured animal skins. They hesitated for a moment, then gave a half-smile. “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem at all,” the angel beamed. “Now come on, let’s get out of this weather. Not much in the way of human settlement around here, I’m afraid, but I’ve managed to make myself a nice little cubby hole further down the hill – should be just enough room in there for the two of us and a fire, if I’m not mistaken...”

Aziraphale turned and walked back the way he’d come, motioning Crawley to follow even as he launched into a long discussion of the benefits of human-style protections for a human-style corporation. The demon couldn’t help but smile to themself – a small, fluttering thing that matched the soft irregular beating of something in their chest.

If the ice storm was Hell on Earth, then perhaps Aziraphale had made his own little corner of Heaven here, too. And Crawley would be more than happy to while away the hours there with him, just as long as they were allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/615758252745113600/advent-omens-ice-storm-yep-im-still-doing). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	17. Ornament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale thought a few extra decorations would be nice for the bookshop. Crowley took that as a personal mission.

“In the American sense, or the British sense?”

Aziraphale blinked. “What?”

“You were talking about ornaments. Before. You were saying about wanting some new Christmas ornaments this year, to brighten up the shop a bit. I was just wondering whether you meant it like the Americans do, like baubles and stuff for the tree, or whether you were thinking of, like, stuff you can put on the window sill. Like snow globes.”

“Crowley. That conversation took place _yesterday_.”

“Yeah, but I thought of the question just now. Can’t go out and find something for you if I don’t know what it is you want, can I, angel?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but blush a little at that. “Were you going to go and find something for me, then?”

It was Crowley’s turn to go a little pink around the ears. “Well, yeah. Course. I just thought... Just thought I should clarify first.”

The angel stood from where he’d been nestled in an armchair reading, and crossed the small space to plant a soft kiss on each of the demon’s steadily darkening cheeks.

“What was that for?” Crowley asked, aiming for jokingly annoyed but misfiring impressively, and landing instead somewhere in the region of utterly besotted.

“You can be very sweet sometimes, my dear. Even without trying to be.”

Crowley shook his head. “Wasn’t being sweet. Was just... You asked for something, so I was going to get you it. That’s not... that’s _obedient_ , not sweet.” He frowned at his own choice of word, and muttered “like a bloody dog.”

“No, darling.” Aziraphale crouched, then, resting his folded arms on Crowley’s knee and gazing up at him with those sky-clear eyes. “The thing is, I didn’t actually ask.”

“Huh?”

“What I said was that I was _considering_ getting more ornaments for the shop, to make it show more of a bright and festive spirit during the winter. I didn’t actually _ask_ for anything.”

“Yeeaahh, but –” Crowley made a strangled combination of sounds that never seemed to fit together well enough to become words. “I just...”

“I know, dearest.” The angel looked a little sad then, though only for a moment. “And that’s my fault. But I just wanted to say – well. You don’t need to read into everything anymore. You don’t need to try and figure out what I’m actually trying to say, because I rather intend to just _say_ it nowadays. And while I do very much appreciate your little gifts and surprises, you don’t actually have to rush to get me every single thing that I express a mild interest in having.”

“Oh.”

“Besides,” Aziraphale said, cheeks pinkening again in shy interest, “I was thinking that we might go to a Christmas shop or market sometime, and select a few ornaments together. If that would be something you’d be interested in doing?”

“Like, uh,” Crowley cleared his throat, felt ridiculous for even asking, and then asked anyway. “Like a date?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, exactly. Like a date.”

Crowley could feel his own smile spreading wide across his face, entirely without permission. “Cool. Yes. Good. It’s a date, then.”

The angel sighed happily, and leaned forwards for another kiss – reciprocated this time, soft and warm and shared. Exactly how any winter holiday should be.

Crowley’s eyelashes fluttered softly against the angel’s cheek, and Aziraphale smiled into the kiss, recognising the demon’s complete dedication of himself to this sensation. It was wonderful, feeling so loved and adored, and knowing he could now show just as much love in return to his partner. He kissed him again for good measure, and Crowley gave a long, low sound of delight that the angel was certain he himself had once made over a hot chocolate fondant.

Aziraphale withdrew with another brilliant smile, then made his way back over to the armchair, to curl up with his latest book again. He was just settling into the next chapter when Crowley finally seemed to snap out of whatever daze the angel had left him in.

“Hang on, I never got an answer. What kind of ornaments did you mean?”

Aziraphale just smiled. “I’m sure we’ll know when we get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Thank you for reading!


	18. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better gift for a food-loving angel than the perfect tasty treat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might make you a little hungry - apologies in advance!

When he’d set out on this project, he hadn’t thought it would take that long. A couple of months, a year at most. Not the best part of a decade.

Trying, adjusting, trying again. He was almost at the stage where he was ready to ask for human feedback – in total secrecy, of course, under the empty threat of eternal torture in Hell. He could trust the American girl, certainly, and probably her husband, and their kids could give their feedback too, but they were probably too young to understand the intricacies of flavour and the importance of the whole thing properly. Adam and Warlock could _probably_ be trusted to keep it secret, but he’d have to keep them out of the way afterwards, because when secrets were involved, they both had a habit of grinning at Crowley in such a way that the angel would figure out something was up in about two seconds flat. Other than that, he supposed he could try it out with random humans who didn’t know Aziraphale and would therefore have zero chance of passing any confidential information on, but that was worse, because he’d have to _explain_ things and then wipe their memories afterwards, and honestly it just wasn’t worth the stress.

But he hadn’t told anyone yet. It was almost maddening, that, having to keep something quiet for so long without even a hint that there was something there to hide. It had been a while since he’d had practice at that.

Today was the cut-off date. If he wasn’t happy with it by this evening, there wouldn’t be time for the human trials to take place so that it was ready in time for Christmas, and so he would have to work on it for another whole year before showing Aziraphale. He’d gotten this down to a fine science, both the project itself and the timings of it, and he was _not_ going to risk mucking it all up by going over deadlines and changing everything at the last minute.

“Right, you,” he said threateningly to the tray in this hand, but determinedly not putting a miracle into it. “You’ve got to be perfect this time, okay? Perfect. I do _not_ want this to last another year.”

He opened the oven door and slid the tray inside, hitting the to-the-second timer at the same instant that he shut the door. It began to count down, and he glared at it for a second to make sure it knew what would happen if it wasn’t loud enough or on time enough or did anything else wrong.

Then he glanced at the counter, at the pile of stuff sat there.

“Ugh,” the being who was once the Serpent of Eden said, and reached towards it. “Now for the apple.”

He worked for another couple of hours, mixing and dividing and baking, plating up the results in colour-coded tins and setting a miracle over each of them to keep them at the perfect temperature. The clipboard was marked off as each batch came out, and sat beside the tins, waiting to be filled out with all necessary details when the time came.

Crowley didn’t realise he was humming until the tune was broken partway through by a polite cough. The demon froze, then whirled around, uncovered yellow eyes blown wide.

Any faint hope he’d had that the now-adult Antichrist had been the one to break into his locked flat vanished as his gaze fell upon the softly-smiling face of his husband.

“Angel...” The word slipped out without intent, as it often did when Crowley was suddenly caught by how _beautiful_ Aziraphale looked. But this time the shock was more one of fear and embarrassment than just flat-out love. Though there was definitely a healthy dose of that in there too.

Unnecessary blood thundering in his ears, he took in the scene, trying to figure out how much Aziraphale knew. The angel was stood by the kitchen table, the rainbow of labelled tins in front of him. Crowley himself was stood by an obviously-on oven, clearing up an obviously-floured counter, but there was no tray in his hands, no actual evidence tying him directly to the tins on the table. Maybe he had a chance? But then, with a sinking feeling in his chest, he realised the clipboard containing his own handwriting was held gently in the ethereal being’s hands, and Crowley knew he was done for. Aziraphale knew the whole thing.

The demon stumbled through a few nonsense sounds, and then eventually fell quiet. And then changed his mind immediately.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” he said slowly, quietly, and he was distantly shocked to hear how broken he sounded.

“Oh, _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale said, dropping the clipboard on the table and crossing the room to him in a few quick, sure strides. The angel folded the demon to him in a strong hug, and Crowley hugged him back automatically, the contact no longer unusual or terrifying.

“If it helps, it _was_ a surprise,” Aziraphale murmured, his chin tucked over his husband’s shoulder. “I didn’t even know there was anything I should be avoiding walking into. And it’s a _wonderful_ surprise, too.”

Crowley mumbled something neither of them recognised as words into Aziraphale’s neck, and then resolved to just enjoy the moment for a bit. _There was a time when we couldn’t do this. Something so wonderfully simple as this._ He also resolved not to cry, and only failed a little.

“Are you okay, my dear?” Aziraphale asked when they finally drew apart. The angel was frowning at him in a concerned sort of way, and Crowley vanished any hint of tears with a click of his fingers, at the same time focusing on returning his irises to normal, human-like size.

“Yeah, sure, ’m fine, angel.”

“I really am sorry that I walked in on your surprise.”

“Nah, ’s not that. Well, maybe it’s a little bit that. But, I mean...” Crowley cast about for the words and ended up groaning at his own inarticulacy. “I just... It all got a bit much. That we can just _do_ that now. Hug. In the middle of the kitchen. In broad daylight.”

Aziraphale’s face crumpled into a strange mixture of love and sadness and deep, deep understanding. “I know, my darling. I know.”

At that moment the timer went off. Crowley wavered for a second between the oven and the angel, then figured _why not both_ and clicked his fingers as he stepped back towards Aziraphale and wrapped his serpentine arms around him. The final batch of cookies made it to the cooling rack right on schedule, and the two celestial beings enjoyed another moment that was all their own, still a novelty after only a decade being allowed that.

At some point, when they realised that the night had drawn in on the Mayfair flat, they broke apart again, limbs relaxing into this strange world where they could live together, be married to each other, and not have to deal with either of their respective Head Offices trying to murder them. They decided not to make the long journey back to the cottage tonight, and instead Aziraphale retrieved a collection of tartan blankets from a cupboard and arranged them around himself on the sofa.

Crowley brought a plate over with one of each cookie batch on it, and when the angel took it from him, he slipped under the blankets too and snuggled into Aziraphale’s soft embrace.

“They’re still just prototypes,” the demon warned. “I haven’t tested them on anyone else yet, so they might not be quite there yet...”Aziraphale gave him a look, and Crowley shut up, nodding in acceptance.

“Which should I try first?”

The demon considered, then pointed, describing each by their major flavours.

“Gingerbread, white chocolate and raspberry, milk chocolate and orange, lemon with meringue chunks, then apple and cinnamon.” He considered this list, then nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work. Not the order I made them in, but they should all be the right temperature for what their flavours are.”

Aziraphale daintily picked up the first biscuit on the list, a simple round of gingerbread with a star pressed into it. “Very festive,” he commented, smiling prettily.

“Yeah,” Crowley mumbled. “I was going to add some bronze edible glitter or something, but that kind of messed up the rustic aesthetic a little...” He trailed off, realising how much he was giving away, and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck. “Urmph, just try it.”

The angel’s soft fingers found Crowley’s among the blankets, and squeezed. The demon clung on in return, and didn’t move until Aziraphale had tried every flavour of cookie he’d painstakingly put together from scratch through a decade of testing and tasting and so much baking, baking, baking.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said finally, and the demon dared raise his head. The pale blue eyes were full of emotion, and for a second Crowley wondered (again) what would happen to him if he discorporated now from pure love.

“My dearest, most wonderful darling,” Aziraphale began, and there was a crack in there somewhere that made Crowley grip the angel even tighter to him. “I love you more than anything in the entirety of creation.”

“They that good?” Crowley asked, and pretended the odd note of his voice was a laugh.

“Oh, they are,” Aziraphale said, nodding and pulling Crowley impossibly closer to him. “But that’s not the point. You’ve...” The angel cut himself off, took a deep breath, and covered the break by pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead.

He drew back slightly and continued, gazing earnestly into the demon’s eyes as he did so. “You’ve put so much time and effort into this, into making these _perfect_ , and that’s all for _me_ , and I just...”

It wasn’t often that either of them cried, but they both forgave themselves for it on this occasion. The tears were heavy with millennia of affection, but they were warm with it, too, and the pile of blankets became a haven of strong arms cuddling close and gentle fingers brushing cheeks and soft lips offering kisses and endless words of love, and that was honestly all they needed.

The tins of cookies sat, perfectly warmed, on the kitchen counter for the rest of the night. They were retrieved in the morning, and offered out to anyone who ventured into the bookshop (as long as they promised not to buy anything), all of whom gave rave reviews of every single flavour.

Aziraphale encouraged Crowley to bake a batch of each to bring to Tadfield for the winter celebrations that year, and every one of the humans who tried them agreed with the angel’s assessment that they were the most delicious cookies they’d ever had. Thereafter, of course, Crowley’s baking was requested at every major event, but he didn’t really mind. It made his angel happy, and that was all he’d ever really wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/615283871062360064/advent-omens-cookies-this-one-might-make-you-a). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!


	19. Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When you wish upon a star..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little angsty, but it's hopeful too.
> 
> They'll get there. One day.

The night was bitterly cold, his breath freezing into clouds as soon as it left the haven of his corporation, and Aziraphale was wrapped up in as many layers of warmth as possible. Thick coat, tartan scarf and matching mittens, even a hat to keep his ears warm.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d left the bookshop at all, but he’d felt he needed a walk, so he had. It was late – or rather early – enough that even in the middle of London, there was pretty much nobody else around. Perfect for walking and thinking.

There was... a lot to think about, if he was honest with himself. A lot that he hardly dared think about, and yet now couldn’t avoid for much longer. A lot that he didn’t ever want to deal with, and that he was scared he would never have to. A lot of complications, in short. A lot of conflict.

He walked the streets of Soho first, past the corner he had waited on for Crowley to finish planning his obliteration-trap of a mission, past the bakery they’d both had croissants at together when it first opened, past the place where he’d bumped into a red-faced Crowley once, the demon holding flowers and chocolates like he had over a century prior, muttering something about missing the anniversary but still wanting to celebrate, _if you’ll have me_. The result had been a quiet night in at the bookshop, and then Crowley had left, and he hadn’t seen him again for a decade (off in New York, apparently, making the most of the flapper dresses and prohibition), and then they’d met up in St James’ Park to update one another on human affairs from the last seventy years, and then he hadn’t seen him again until the church.

Aziraphale swallowed, his mind automatically wanting to skip over that particular memory, but he wouldn’t let it. Not right now.

The church. Crowley had walked on consecrated ground for him, to save him the fuss and bother of being discorporated and having to acquire a new body. He’d come to distract and bomb the Nazis – and they’d known who he was, which was a detail he hadn’t fully appreciated at the time – and he did so, and he’d asked Aziraphale to save them, and then he’d remembered the books...

It was cold and clear out, and the water running down his cheeks caught the breeze and made him shiver, so he wiped it away. _He saved the books._ That was what Aziraphale couldn’t get over, that was the moment he’d been suddenly dropped into a void and realised the truth, that was the instant his entire world changed and there was no going back now, not ever.

That night recontextualised so much of their relationship – his own reaction to Crowley’s request for holy water, for one – and it was terrifying in a way that he, even with all his books and words and knowledge of the entire history of language, couldn’t fully articulate.

It had taken him twenty-six years to go from that realisation to giving Crowley what he’d asked for all that time ago, and it felt like he was strapped to the side of a rocket, bulleting through the atmosphere faster than should be possible, faster than the grip of gravity.

 _I love you,_ Aziraphale had said, though not in so many words, _and I’m sorry._

 _I’ll wait for you,_ the demon had replied, without actually saying so. _As long as it takes, angel. As long as you need._

And that was why he loved him.

Aziraphale hadn’t really been paying much attention to his surroundings for a while, and had somehow ended up in Hyde Park. It was strange, seeing a place so usually full of life – families with children, dogs, teenagers messing around together, elderly couples sharing a quiet moment – so completely, utterly still. It was silent, and the moonlight made the frosted grass shine silver, and it was beautiful, so beautiful.

He wished Crowley could see it, too. He always wished that, whenever he saw a scene as wonderful as this. He liked having someone to share the memory with.

Aziraphale hadn’t seen the demon in months, after he’d given him the holy water – until yesterday, when he’d arrived, chipper as anything, and offered to take him out for lunch. And that was why the angel needed to think so hard now.

He’d been scared. Scared that the unthinkable had happened without him knowing. Scared that he’d somehow irrevocably broken their relationship by his refusal to go further _now_. Maybe he’d misinterpreted that look, those words, everything he’d imagined was between them. He’d been terrified.

And then Crowley had appeared at the bookshop door, smiling and tempting him to lunch and acting like everything was normal, like nothing had happened, and Aziraphale had been _relieved_ , so deeply, deeply _relieved_ , and he’d been swept up in the afternoon’s events and the joy of Crowley being alive, and then the demon had said his goodbyes and left. And Aziraphale was left _shaking_.

He hadn’t understood his own reaction, at first. He had sat heavily on the sofa, in Crowley’s spot, still warm from the demon lounging there a matter of minutes beforehand, and he’d tried to convince his hammering heart that Crowley was still alive. _He’s okay, it’s okay, what are you panicking about? He’s fine. You’re fine._ We’re _fine. Why are you so scared?_

The problem was, any confirmation that Crowley was _currently_ fine was rendered void as soon as he was out of sight. The problem was, Aziraphale didn’t know where the holy water was, and couldn’t take it back. The problem was, everything was out of his control, and he couldn’t protect him, and anything could happen, and that was _terrifying_.

Even looking at these thoughts from a distance, after the panic attack was over, was exhausting. Aziraphale chose a patch of grass in the centre of the park and sank slowly to sit amongst the frozen blades, breathing heavily.

_You’re okay. It’s fine. Just breathe._

The angel sat on the cold ground in the middle of a silent London, and focused on trying to slow his heartbeat down to a reasonable pace. _Never could control the heart right, could you? You ridiculous angel. Just breathe._

When eventually the shaking stopped and the clouds his lungs were making in the air had time to fade between each new breath, he dared look up. Up, up, far up, until he was leaning back on the grass and staring up into the abyss of the sky above.

This was terrifying in its own way. For a moment, he could feel the vastness of the Earth beneath him, and the impossibly, infinitely greater vastness of the universe above and around them both. _Huge, colossal, unfathomable._

 _No. You are not a human – you are an angel. You could fill this universe, if you wanted to – choose to fly to the moon, live among the stars, feel the nebulae through your feathers, if you wanted to. You are as impossible as anything else in creation. It has no right to scare you. You should scare_ it.

He focused on the stars. Crowley had helped craft these, once upon a time. He’d told him once, under a sky like this. He’d pointed to constellations, and Aziraphale had listened in spellbound silence. The demon had listed their names, told little stories about their existence, lit up with the memory of how it felt to have the stars in the palms of his hands.

_“Which one is nearest? Which is most interesting? Which one is your favourite?”_

_Crowley looked at him, and he felt the colour rise in his cheeks. Hopefully it was dark enough that the demon wouldn’t notice._

_“That’s all the same answer,” he said, yellow eyes wide and almost glowing in the night. He pointed at a bright spot high above them. “Alpha Centauri.”_

_He told the angel about the binary star, how the two orbs of light perfectly balanced one another, how it had felt to spin them around one another and know they were intended to be together forever, how it had felt to be enacting the wonder of God’s Plan._

One of them had cried. Maybe both. Aziraphale couldn’t remember.

He lay there, staring up at the slowly revolving sky, remembering Crowley and trying to forget his worries about him. He certainly wasn’t crying now. No, definitely not.

A tune came to him, and he hummed it. It was apt, he supposed, and yet not really at all. Wishes were a strange thing to consider for an angel. Weren’t they just prayers, wished on stars instead of spoken to God?

He considered it for a while, and then decided on the difference, at least for him. Prayers were for other people – you were supposed to use them for important things like asking for someone to be forgiven, asking for someone to be kept safe, asking for someone to be blessed with a good life. Wishes were more selfish – they were for yourself, the things not worth addressing to God, because they were only about you.

He prayed for Crowley. Softly, unofficially, as it were – he didn’t use the circle that had been chalked under the rug in the bookshop since it opened, he didn’t request any official acknowledgment for his words to God, he wasn’t even sure if they were received. But he thought the words anyway, and had done for a long while, now. _Please, let him have a good life. Please, keep him safe. Please, forgive him._ He never got an answer.

But wishes... wishes weren’t told to anyone. That was the point – they were secret, private, just for you. There was even a superstition that if you ever told anyone what you’d wished for, it wouldn’t come true. _That_ was the difference.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and wished. He wished for a better life, for a world where Heaven and Hell didn’t care what they did together, where they were free to live on and look after the Earth without interference, where they could do the things he’d said he’d wanted to in the Bentley, without fear. He wished that Crowley was here, now, and understood, and would be gentle with him and not push, and he knew that he didn’t even need to wish for that part, because it would be true regardless. Crowley never pushed him, not really. He was kind and patient and gentle, and that was right at the heart of the whole thing.

He sighed, and opened his eyes, and sat up. Wishes didn’t come true, either, even if you didn’t tell anyone. Prayers did, sometimes. But wishes only came true by coincidence. Side effect of them not being addressed to a Higher Authority, probably.

The angel sat there for a while longer, looking up at the stars, waiting for them to fade and the dawn to come.And then he heard someone move, off to the side, somewhere a long way behind him.

The person hesitated, then began to walk slowly towards him. Aziraphale could hear the footsteps as the being crunched over the icy grass, and recognised the gait. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then turned to greet the demon as he arrived just beside his left shoulder.

“Hello, my dear.”

“Uh, hi, angel. Err... Not interrupting, am I?”

“No, my dear. Not at all.”

Crowley sank down to the ground beside him, legs drawn up to his chest and arms around them, his silhouette oddly small, even as the angles were sharp and familiar.

“You okay, angel?”

“Mmm. Just thinking.”

Crowley nodded, and followed his gaze upwards.

_“We could sit here forever, if you wanted to.”_

_“No, we couldn’t, my dear. Don’t be ridiculous.”_

_“I could freeze time. We could make our home here, in this one moment, in this night.”_

_He didn’t dare get his hopes up. “We couldn’t. They’d find us.”_

_Crowley looked at him for a long moment. Then his golden eyes flicked away, upwards, and he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”_

_“Don’t be,” he said, suddenly brave, suddenly determined. “It was a lovely idea.”_

Now, Crowley didn’t look at him. His eyes were covered with those ever-present sunglasses. But he spoke all the same.

“I’m sorry, angel. I should have called, I should have let you know I was okay. I just... didn’t want to intrude. Wanted to give you space, you know? But I’m sorry if I upset you because of that.”

Aziraphale nodded up at the stars, and didn’t look at the demon even as the demon dared a glance at him. “Thank you, my dear.”

“For what? Apologising?”

“For understanding.”

They stayed like that a while longer, a frozen moment in the darkness of the winter night. That tune came back to him again, and Aziraphale hummed it into the night air.

_When you wish upon a star,_  
_Makes no difference who you are..._

_When you wish upon a star,_  
_Your dreams come true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Or alternatively, you can like, reply to, or reblog this ficlet on my tumblr [here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/610875312880877568/advent-omens-wish-it-might-be-a-couple-of-months). Whether you choose do to this or not, thank you for reading!
> 
> ***
> 
> Phew, eight ficlets posted in one go! Hope you've enjoyed them (and all the ones before that, if you hadn't read them yet), and I hope this one is a good one to end on for now.
> 
> Turns out the last day of 2020 is, uh, tomorrow. (Definitely tomorrow - don't look at the time stamp, it's definitely not 1am already here, no way, nope.) On the one hand, thank Frances McDormand it's finally over! On the other, the sudden arrival of this date out of the mists of non-linear timey-wimey-ness that has been the last several months means I may not actually have all 31 of these ficlets posted by the end of December as I'd hoped. There are, however, at least five more already posted on [my tumblr](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/search/advent-omens), and the rest will be finished and posted here on AO3 as soon as possible. Thank you for bearing with me!


	20. Reindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite pair of celestials encounter some wild reindeer in the early days of Planet Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Well, happy mid-January, at least. Hope you're doing well!

They didn’t literally bump into one another, but it was a close thing. Crawley had been squinting at the floor, trying to tell if the tracks in front of him were human or not (probably, he was on the point of deciding), when an angel appeared out of nowhere beside him, staring upwards with his mouth open in awe, and the demon barely had time to jump sideways and yelp.

“Oh! Sorry, I - Crawley! I’m so sorry, my dear, I didn’t see -”

“No worries, angel,” the demon grunted, trying to bury the little flash of delight that lit up his insides at Aziraphale’s presence. “You, er, should watch where you’re going, though. Could bump into anything round here. Tree. Bear. Demon.”

Aziraphale blushed a little at that, and apologised again. “I was rather, ah, entranced by the evening sky. It’s incredibly beautiful tonight.”

Crawley glanced up as if he hadn’t noticed, as if he didn’t always pay attention to the way the atmosphere hid and showed off his stars. “Mmm.”

The sun was hovering on the point of setting, throwing up a gorgeous array of pastel colours across the sky. Pinks and oranges highlighted the nearside of the few wispy clouds, while the shadows behind them were deep blue-greys and lilacs. The backdrop was a washed-out blue that darkened in gradient as it arced overhead, ending in a soft navy on the opposite side of the sky. A few stars twinkled there, slowly letting themselves be seen as the daylight faded from view. It was, indeed, stunning.

“So,” Aziraphale began conversationally. “What are you doing here?”

Crawley blinked, and turned his attention back to his companion. “Oh, I’m just, y’know. Around. On a job.” The angel tilted his head slightly in question, and Crawley continued on without hesitation. “I’m meant to be tracking some of the local wildlife. Convincing the humans to tame them.”

“Oh,” the angel said, frowning. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Crawley shrugged. “I dunno, to be honest. Something about humans exercising control over God’s creations, blasphemy through action or whatever. Didn’t make much sense to me.”

Aziraphale’s brow was still creased in confusion. “Isn’t that... sort of the point of humans? Aren’t they _supposed_ to be in charge of all the animals and everything? I rather thought that was their role on Earth - looking after life and caring for the animals. I would imagine domestication to be part of that.”

“Yeah, well. Probably Hell recognising an inevitable loss and trying to twist it to a win, or something.” Crawley made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “As long as they’re happy with what I’m doing, I’m good. And this doesn’t seem too... onerous a task.” He’d been going to say something else there, but thought better of it. Aziraphale was still technically the enemy, after all. Wouldn’t do to let an angel know he wasn’t a fan of outright _evil_ deeds this early in the game.

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully.

“So, uh, what brings you here?”

“Oh, ah, much the same.” The angel smiled, a little sheepishly. “I’m supposed to be encouraging the humans to embrace their role as environmental stewards, and helping them recognise that it could be mutually beneficial for them _and_ the plants and animals involved.”

Crawley stared for a second. “Wait, you mean - we’re here to do the same job?”

“It appears so.”

He tried to contain it, he really did. But the laugh burst out of him, and once he’d started he couldn’t quite figure out how to stop.

Aziraphale seemed a little put out by that. “Would you mind informing me of what’s so funny?”

“It’s just...” _Pointless? Ludicrous? Entirely for show?_ “It’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it? Both of us, opposite sides and all that, doing the exact same job for opposing reasons. It’s just... all a bit meaningless. Needn’t have Fallen, if I was going to end up with the same job regardless.”

The slightly darker turn to his point took both of them by surprise. The laughter stopped at once.

“Err, sorry,” Crawley found himself saying, after a moment. “Killed the mood a bit there.”

“No, no, I, ah...” Aziraphale was staring at the frozen ground now, fingers twisting around one another and forehead wrinkled. Clearly he was at a loss for what to say.

Crawley wondered whether it was the sudden and unexpected empathy for a _demon_ of all things that was stalling him, or the complex theological implications of what had just been said.

He decided to change the subject.

“Anyway. I, um. We’re both looking for animals, yeah? Wanna look together?”

Aziraphale blinked, looked up into the demon’s eyes, then visibly relaxed. “That would be lovely, thank you,” he said, a touch more gratitude in there than strictly necessary.

“Cool. Good. No problem.”

They began to walk, side by side, deeper into the woods.

* * *

It took them a while to find the signs of life that they were looking for. Around here, the frost and snow killed off less resilient lifeforms, and only the toughest plants and hardiest mammals survived. Few birds flew overhead, there were no insects to speak of, and both reptiles and amphibians were wholly absent. A shiver went down Crawley’s back at that thought; it hadn’t been all that long ago, after all, when a reptile had been his primary form.

It also didn’t help that the few animals which had made a home here were annoyingly well camouflaged in the white, grey, and gloom. The sun was fully set now, and although that wasn’t a massive hindrance to celestial eyes, the damn things were still near-impossible to spot.

But Crawley knew what he was looking for. He’d seen them before: great beasts the height of humans, and the length of them too. They were built roughly like horses - which Crawley had met a few times and already wasn’t much of a fan of - but these creatures seemed stronger in some ways. Not to mention they had ruddy great horns on their heads, which always made animals infinitely cooler. Rhinos, for example. And unicorns, which were the far superior cousins to horses. These animals weren’t quite _that_ awesome, but they certainly were something to behold.

He put a hand out to silently warn Aziraphale when they were close. The angel stopped at once, listening carefully and looking around wide-eyed.

“This way,” Crawley said, as low as possible, and crept forwards slowly with light steps. Aziraphale followed suit, and they travelled that way for a minute more before the animals finally came into view.

The angel gasped when he saw them. Thankfully, the creatures didn’t seem that fussed by the celestials’ presence.

“Oh, Crawley, they’re _beautiful_.”

The demon couldn’t help but agree. Thick fur, elegant antlers, delicate yet strong legs, and wide, dark eyes. They were striking, of course, but they were also clearly gentle, curious, and powerful. The humans wouldn’t be able to help but feel awe in their presence. Domesticating them certainly wouldn’t be a hard sell.

“Reindeer,” Crawley said softly. Aziraphale would have had the name gifted to his thoughts the second he wondered about it, as with everything in Creation, but there was still something joyful in voicing the word aloud, in hearing it spoken for the first time, in seeing the way it lit up Aziraphale’s face.

“Reindeer,” the angel repeated back reverently.

The demon nodded, and dared to step a little nearer. Aziraphale followed, keeping close to Crawley and mirroring his every move.

“They’re strong enough to be ridden,” the demon began, keeping his voice low and quiet to avoid spooking the animals, trying to get them accustomed to speech. “And would be perfect for carrying things. The humans would certainly find them useful. Not to mention the uses they’d find for those antlers, and the furs, and everything else.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed. “I’m sure they’ll understand the benefits of a domestic situation fairly quickly. How would the reindeer respond, though?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’d appreciate the additional protection from predators. And the more reliable source of food. As long as they’re allowed plenty of space to roam, I imagine it would work quite nicely.”

“Perhaps.”

By now they were right among the herd, stood in the centre of a small clearing. Crawley took a deep breath, carefully avoiding turning his firmly _hoping_ thoughts in the direction of _praying_ , and stepped closer to one of the nearest reindeer.

The animal turned its head slightly to watch the demon approach, but it made no move to leave. Crawley continued to hope desperately that he wouldn’t yet learn how deadly those antlers could be, and continued to move in a slow, smooth manner towards the beast. He didn’t look it in the eye, and tried to appear as unthreatening as possible, keeping his teeth hidden and his gaze pointed downwards.

Whether by Crawley’s skill, the reindeer’s trust, or just a well-placed miracle (accidental or intentional), the demon made it to the animal’s side, and it didn’t try to run off or attack him when he reached out gently to touch its side. His hand sank into soft, thick fur, and he couldn’t help but gasp at how wonderful it felt.

“Crawley?” a voice whispered behind him.

He’d almost forgotten Aziraphale was there. “It’s fine, just do what I did. Come and feel this!”

While the angel caught up with him, moving slowly and unthreateningly through the cold night air, Crawley stroked the reindeer’s fur, murmuring quietly as he did so to soothe any tension away. The beast seemed to enjoy the sensation, making a soft noise deep in its throat and then bowing its head back to the ground in search of food, trusting the two celestials not to harm it while it ate.

Aziraphale reached them both and hesitated, clearly wanting to reach out and touch the creature but not willing to risk spooking it.

“It’s fine,” Crawley said encouragingly, voice still low and friendly. “Just don’t grab or pull, and you’ll be good. Seems to enjoy being stroked, don’t you?”

The reindeer didn’t reply, but its blatant ease at the situation bolstered Aziraphale’s resolve. The angel stretched out a hand and laid it carefully against the edge of the animal’s fur.

Having apparently run out of food in the small area it had been searching, the reindeer took a step forward. Crawley stepped with it, and the angel gasped as the animal’s fur shifted under his hand.

“Oh! Crawley, it’s so _soft_!”

The demon smirked. “Told you.”

Aziraphale began to pet the reindeer in earnest now, allowing his hand to sink slightly into the thick fur. His other hand joined the first, and soon the angel was nattering quietly to the animal, brushing his hands up and down its back in what looked like a Heavenly massage.

After a moment, the animal’s head lifted up again, and Crawley moved carefully towards it, still stroking as he did so.

“You’re being very patient with us, aren’t you, darling? I hope you’ll do the same when the humans come by. Think it might turn out pretty good for you if you do.”

The reindeer blinked, and Crawley dared shift his hand from its neck to its long snout, keeping his touch light and gentle.

“There we go, gorgeous. ’S not so bad, is it? Promise my fingers aren’t that tasty. Mind if I touch your antlers?”

There was no response, but the animal didn’t seem to mind either way. Crawley reached up and traced a hand along the solid branches, curving and pointing in their strong, graceful arcs. He couldn’t help but let his mouth open in wonder as his fingertips skimmed the rivulets and spikes, and when he was done he stroked the reindeer’s snout again and offered his deep, sincere thanks.

“Beautiful, you are,” the demon said softly.

“Yes.”

Crawley looked over at Aziraphale, who still had one hand buried in the reindeer’s fur. But he wasn’t paying much attention to that anymore, instead staring more in the demon’s direction. His soft blue eyes were wide and shining, clearly awestruck, and Crawley couldn’t help but smile.

“This one’s been so lovely to us, haven’t you? Better let you go now, though.”

He gestured lightly in the direction of the other reindeer, who had begun to vacate the clearing on their search for more food, or perhaps for somewhere to rest for the night. Aziraphale stared for a moment longer, then seemed to shake himself and realise that this was goodbye.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Ah, thank you, dear. Lovely to meet you.” He gave the animal one last pat, then relinquished his hold and stepped a little away.

The reindeer seemed to give a nod, then shook its fur out a little and moved off to join its family. The angel and demon stood beside one another, watching them go until there was nothing left to see.

“That was delightful,” Aziraphale said quietly - no longer keeping his voice low for the animals, but clearly speaking in reverence of the occasion. “Thank you, Crawley.”

“No problem. Thought it would do some good to see ’em up close, so we know what we’re getting ourselves and the humans into.” He grinned at the angel. “Work starts tomorrow then, eh? Have you met with the humans yet? Got anywhere to stay for the night?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve got a little shack not far from where we met, actually. I thought I would head over to the humans around midday and go from there.”

“Fancy hanging out and doing it together? We are here for the same job, after all.”

Aziraphale paused for a second, apparently searching Crawley’s face for something. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “That sounds wonderful, my dear.”

They turned and began to walk back the way they’d come through the trees, falling into step beside one another as if this was always the way it was meant to be.

“By the way, angel, earlier - when you said ‘dear’ to that deer, was it a pun? Because it definitely sounded like one.”

“Oh, I, ah... Well, I suppose it was.”

Crawley laughed at that, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but join in too, still marvelling at this demon who took such care over God’s Creations. They headed back towards the angel’s little shelter together, and into the day to come - side by side, on the same page, determined to work together to help the humans and protect the Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be careful around wild animals, and remember that these two have literal miracles on their side to make sure they don't get hurt. In short: don't try this at home!
> 
> If you feel able to, please do let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter in particular, as kudos only appears for the work as a whole. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading! 💜
> 
> I am still going to be updating this fic collection (and hopefully it'll be finished before _this_ December), but since I've written these ficlets out of order and yet am posting them in order per [the original calendar](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/post/189429314234/noire73-drawlight-drawlight-aziraphale), there's some bonus stories already available on [my tumblr](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/)! Check them out [over here](https://freyjawriter24.tumblr.com/search/31+days+of+ineffables).
> 
> I also write a lot of other stuff (mostly Good Omens at the moment), so if you like my writing please do check out my other work on AO3!


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